


Not Quite a Boy

by Zakaira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child born out of wedlock, Kidfic, M/M, Mpreg, Other, Slash, Vaginal Sex (the vagina belongs to a man), intersexed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 33
Words: 69,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9215057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zakaira/pseuds/Zakaira
Summary: AU starting 4th year. Draco is intersexed and gets his period. Harry helps hide it. They start dating. But when Draco gets pregnant right after Voldemort returns, Lucius takes his family into hiding, keeping Draco and the baby away from Harry. Draco thinks Harry has abandoned them. After the war the Malfoys come out of hiding and Harry sets out to get his family back.





	1. Chapter 1

AU starting 4th year

Harry’s POV:

            When Ron, Hermione, and I made our way into Transfigurations class that fateful day, Draco Malfoy was already getting torn into by McGonagall.

            “There’s no excuse for improper attire, Mr. Malfoy. I should send you back to your dorm to change, but since I know getting out of my class is what you want, you have detention instead,” McGonagall was saying.

            Malfoy wasn’t wearing his school robes. He didn’t even have on his vest or tie. He wore only the buttoned down shirt and trousers that were optional under attire.

            “That’s not fair, professor! I accidentally left my robes in the _Hospital Wing_. I was properly dressed when I left my dorm this morning. I shouldn’t be punished for being sick!” Malfoy protested. The way he said Hospital Wing made me think he’d already mentioned this before I arrived, although I didn’t know anything about it.

            “I will reconsider the detention if you can produce a note from Madam Pomfrey,” McGonagall countered.

            Malfoy huffed, giving the impression of being put upon by being asked to obtain a note, but he nodded anyway.

            “Now you’ve wasted enough of our time. Sit, Mr. Malfoy. Class has started. Essays! Essays everyone!” McGonagall called.

            Malfoy sat. We all pulled out our scrolls and passed them up. When McGonagall collected the last of them, she looked sternly down at Malfoy.

            “Mr. Malfoy, where is your homework? Don’t tell me you left that in the Hospital Wing too,” McGonagall said.

            “No Professor. I didn’t get a chance to do it. I was too ill. Please Professor, I feel really awful. Can I go lay down?” Malfoy asked, hand on his stomach like he had a stomach ache.

            “No, you may not. Madam Pomfrey said there is nothing wrong with you. It’ll be another detention for not doing your homework. Now stop complaining and stop interrupting my class,” McGonagall replied.

            Then McGonagall proceeded with class as usual. We were transfiguring Guinea Fowl into Guinea Pigs. Hermione was brilliant at it and helped Ron and me with our spells. I finally got it towards the end of class, while Ron’s still had scaly feet when McGonagall ordered the animals returned to their cages.

            At first I was too busy depositing my Guinea Pig to notice that anything was unusual. But when I looked up, all eyes were of Malfoy, again. His Guinea Pig was perfect, cradled in his arms as he halted in his tracks, no longer moving to put the animal away. Instead he was twisting at the waist, turning his head to look at where Pansy Parkinson was pointing. He turned on the spot, trying to get a better look at his backside, and in the process, showed the entire class the deep red stain on the seat of his trousers.

            I gasped. Malfoy blushed and dropped his Guinea Pig. McGonagall caught the animal with magic and levitated it into a cage. Several students shouted out questions to Malfoy at once.

            “What’s that?”

            “Are you hurt?”

            “Is that blood?”

            “What happened?”

            Malfoy reached behind him and swiped at the stain, coming away with blood stained fingers.

            “Mr. Malfoy, it seems you finally get your way. You are excused from the remainder of the lesson in order to visit the Hospital Wing, again. You are still responsible for the material I am about to cover and the reading that will be assigned at the end of class, as well as the essay you have yet to complete,” McGonagall said.

            “Madam Pomfrey told me not to bother her again. She said I’m fine and to stop coming to her,” Malfoy said weakly, not his usual self at all.

            “Yes, but you were not bleeding then. I am sure she will be able to tell there is a problem now,” McGonagall replied.

            “What if he _was_ bleeding before? What if he’s been bleeding on the inside since last night? And the incompetency at this school made him go to classes anyway! He could’ve died!” Pansy Parkinson exclaimed over dramatically.

            Everyone was still staring at Malfoy’s bloody bum and I felt sorry for him for once as he stood there looking confused. I pulled out my winter cloak and offered it to him to cover himself.

            By that time, all the students were speculating about where the blood was coming from, Seamus even crudely whispering that it was the arse, which probably factored into Malfoy’s decision to take my cloak to cover himself. He put it over his shoulders, covering the blood stain from view.

            McGonagall sighed. “Take him to the Hospital Wing, Mr. Potter,” she ordered.

            I stepped forward and reached for Malfoy’s arm, tugging, to get him moving. He stopped to grab his bag and scoop up his things from his desk, while his friends argued with McGonagall over who should be the one to take him. McGonagall shot them down, stating that they had wasted enough class time today and they needed to get back to work. I’d offered my cloak, so I was taking him.

            I grabbed my bag, already packed because I hadn’t bothered taking anything out to take notes with, and ushered Malfoy from the room.

            Malfoy was slow going up the multiple flights of stairs to the infirmary.

            “Are you alright?” I asked him as he paused on the third staircase.

            “My stomach hurts,” he said, ruffling his arms underneath the cloak.

            I looked at his stomach more closely then and noticed that he was clutching it again.

            “Is that where the blood is coming from?” I asked, wondering if he was going to feint before we even got to the fourth floor.

            “I don’t know.” He shrugged and continued upwards.

            We were close then. I offered words of encouragement, urging him on.

            I took my cloak back from him as we approached the entrance to the Hospital Wing. I shouted out for Madam Pomfrey to come help as Malfoy continued on to a chair covered in school robes, Slytherin tie on top. He hadn’t been lying to McGonagall; his clothes were here.

            Oddly enough, Malfoy grabbed for his tie and started putting it on, just as Madam Pomfrey came out of her office.

            “Why in Merlin’s name is Mr. Malfoy back? Three times in twenty-four hours, Mr. Malfoy? Your Head of House will be hearing about this,” Pomfrey said.

            “Please, Madam, he’s bleeding,” I said, motioning towards Malfoy’s bum.

            “Where?” she asked, stopping Malfoy from grabbing for his robes in an attempt to cover up.

            “I told McGonagall you said not to come back for this. I just need my clothes. I left them,” Malfoy said, pulling away from the school nurse.

            I deduced that he was wary from his previous visits, when he’d clearly been bleeding internally or something and she’d turned him away.

            “Hold up a minute and let me see!” Madam Pomfrey ordered, grabbing hold of Malfoy and turning him.

            The blood stain in his trousers was bigger now. She gasped.

            Pomfrey cast a spell with no results. “No injuries. What happened?” she asked Malfoy.

            He shrugged. “I told you. My stomach started hurting last night.”

            “Come on, to the loo. We need to get you cleaned up and see where that blood is coming from,” she said, hand on his shoulder.

            Malfoy reached out to me then, hand clasping mine, and caught my eye. He looked scared, silently begging me to come with him.

            I wouldn’t want to be naked in front of the school nurse either. I felt so sorry for him that I gripped his hand back and followed. I couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to suddenly start bleeding from my bum during class. And to top it off, he’d apparently been in pain for the better part of a day, turned away from the Hospital Wing twice, and told by multiple adults that there was nothing wrong with him and to stop complaining. I knew he was the type to bemoan the slightest scrape and make a mountain out of a mole hill; I figured that was why no one much cared when he’d complained earlier. He was probably scared that all his crying wolf would have him sent away again now that he was actually in need of medical treatment.

            The loo was a large tiled room. Pomfrey stopped in the middle of it and ordered Malfoy to strip. He once again started on his tie, as she summoned a hospital gown. She held out the gown to him as he removed his shirt, letting it fall to the floor on top of his tie. She helped him into the gown, opening in the back, and was tying it in the back as he moved to push his trousers and pants down in one fluid motion. There was a moment when the gown was rucked up and I got a glimpse of a large bush of light colored pubes in the triangle between his legs. I couldn’t tell if they were naturally several shades darker than his hair or red with blood. I turned away, looking down, as my mind registered that I hadn’t actually seen anything: his cock and bollocks weren’t visible in the brief glance I got.

            I felt myself growing hard and stole the smallest of glances at Malfoy.

            Malfoy straightened the gown, covering himself.

            I looked down again, at the bloody pair of pants Malfoy had discarded on the floor. There was more blood on them than the trousers; a concealed blob of the stuff too. Despite the mess, I found myself unable to stop my attraction. I was fourteen. I could get it up when Hagrid was lecturing about Flobberworms. Seeing pubes, bloody or not, even without detail of what lay beneath, was apparently more than enough to get little Harry interested. I felt my face flushing in embarrassment and hoped no one noticed me.

            Meanwhile, Pomfrey obtained a sample of the blood, cast a spell, and determined, “Vaginal blood. You’re having your first period, Mr. Malfoy.”

            “What? No,” Malfoy replied, crossing his arms over his chest in denial.

            “Yes. The pain you have been experiencing is nothing more than cramping. You can expect it to last three to seven days, once a month.”

            “But I’m a boy,” Malfoy protested.

            “I’ve seen your file, Mr. Malfoy, so we both know that isn’t entirely true. You have Fairy Condition. This was bound to happen sooner or later,” Pomfrey insisted.

            Malfoy started crying, one fist going into his mouth to muffle his sobs as he sunk down towards the tile.

            “Come now, it’ll be okay. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s all perfectly natural. It’s just a sign that you’re male fertile now. You can take a nice soothing soak and have a lie down, if you don’t feel like going back to class,” she continued.

            “But the blood?” Malfoy asked.

            “You will deal with it like everyone else. I’ll show you how to use a panty liner. There’s nothing to it. It’s not a big deal. You’ll get used to it,” she said, pulling out a pack of feminine hygiene products from a bathroom cupboard. She reached towards a stack of panties too, the girl kind, but then thought better of it and summoned a pair of men’s pants from one of the outer cupboards. Evidently girls were more likely to need new panties in this loo than boys were.

            Malfoy took the panty liners and the pants and just stood there, like he was struck dumb by shock.

            “Don’t be like that. It’s not the end of the world. Sure you’ll get your little visitor every month, but you’ll get your own room too. You’ll learn to deal and everything will go back to normal,” Pomfrey continued.

            “I don’t want my own room! I told Snape First Year that I wanted to be with the boys!” Malfoy yelled, suddenly angry.

            This seemed like an odd thing for him to be upset about, all things considered. I figured him for the sort to jump at the chance to get his own room. I would even believe that he’d fake something like this to get such a special treatment. But looking at him now, I knew he wasn’t faking.

            “Well, Professor Snape has allowed it so far, against better judgement, but now that you’ve started puberty, it is no longer prudent. There is no getting around it: once someone with the Fairy Condition gets their period, they have to be moved into a separate dorm room for their own safety,” Pomfrey said.

            “Don’t say that! I hate that name! Fairy! I’m not a Fairy. I have 5-alpha-reductase deficiency and Persistent Müllerian duct syndrome,” Malfoy protested.

            “It doesn’t matter what you call it,” Pomfrey insisted. “You are male fertile, so you’ll have to be in a different room. If there were other students in Slytherin with your condition, you would share, but since it is just you at the moment, you will have your own room. You should consider yourself lucky; a decade back we had a burst of students with your condition, all in Slytherin, all crammed into the same room.”

            Malfoy didn’t respond to this. Considering the topic settled, Pomfrey moved on to a demonstration of how to spell a panty liner into pants and handed the lumpy garment to Malfoy.

            When Malfoy still didn’t move, she added, “Right, you should bathe first.” She pushed him towards a large tub in the corner and spelled on the tap.

            Then she caught sight of me and added, “Mr. Potter, what are you still doing here?”

            “I um…” I stuttered.

            “It’s far past time you went. Mr. Malfoy will be fine.” I started backing away through the door, but only slowly, because I wanted to know more of what was up with Malfoy. I didn’t understand half of what they’d said. Why was it that Malfoy was having a period? That was a girl thing, wasn’t it? What did being male fertile mean? What was the Fairy Condition? And what were those syndromes Malfoy listed?

            Malfoy looked at me then, for the first time since he’d grabbed my hand and silently begged me to come with him into the loo. “Don’t tell, Potter. Please,” he said.

            I nodded. “I won’t. I promise,” I said.

            “See, Mr. Malfoy? Mr. Potter and boys like him are why you need your own room. Perverts, the lot of them,” Pomfrey said to Malfoy. Then she spelled the door to slam in my face.

            I blinked, startled, then left.

 

* * *

  


Author’s note: I have trouble gauging when everyone is ready for another chapter, so how about we do it this way: leave me a review when you’re ready for more. It’s doesn’t even have to be insightful or complex, just a “:)” will do. If people are keeping up, I’ll start posting two chapters a week.


	2. Chapter2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I would like to thank everyone for reviewing the last chapter and reward you all with getting you this chapter extra early! If all of you continue to do your best to review, I’ll do my best to get two chapters out every week.

Warning: The following chapter contains a fourteen-year-old masturbating while thinking about another intersexed fourteen-year-old.

* * *

 

            By then lunch was halfway over. I found Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall where I engulfed a couple of sandwiches as everyone around me pestered me for details about what was wrong with Malfoy and what had happened. I’d promised not to tell, so I busied myself with stuffing my face. While I did so, I decided that I had to tell part of it, at least to Ron and Hermione; the burning urge to tell someone was too strong for me to keep silent. They were my best friends and they could keep a secret.

            A few minutes before the end of lunch, I pulled Ron and Hermione out of the Great Hall and into an abandoned classroom.

            “So, what’s going on with Malfoy?” Ron asked. Hermione nodded.

            “He asked me not to tell, so you have to promise this stays between the three of us,” I said.

            “Harry, if you promised not to tell, maybe you should keep this to yourself. It’s not really our business when another student is sick or injured. He has a right to privacy,” Hermione said, ever the voice of reason, despite Malfoy’s past slurs directed at her.

            Ron said pretty much the opposite, in a very inarticulate way that earned him a dirty look from Hermione.

            “Look, I’m not going to tell you the details. I just need to talk about it with someone. I don’t understand most of what happened. I was hoping you could help me, Hermione,” I said.

            “Alright. What happened?” Hermione caved.

            “Malfoy was bleeding because he got his period, which Pomfrey said was because he’s a Fairy,” I started, but Ron cut me off here.

            “Malfoy’s a Fairy!?!” Ron asked snorting in laughter.

            Hermione smacked Ron on his arm and glared at him until he controlled himself. Then she motioned for me to continue.

            “Malfoy didn’t like that word for it. He had a reaaaaalllly long name for some medical disorder that he said he had. They mentioned male fertility and puberty. But we are all going through puberty and no one mentioned blokes having periods when we become fertile to me,” I explained.

            “So _Ron_ , since you clearly know something Harry and I don’t, what does being a Fairy mean in the Wizarding World?” Hermione asked annoyed.

            “It means someone who has girl bits and boy bits. It happens in the Muggle World too, but I don’t know their term for it. But I do know that typically Muggles with it can’t have children, but Magic repairs the deformity so that Fairies typically _can_ have kids. But sometimes the sex is so mixed up that boys are fertile as girls or the other way around. I think that’s what’s happened here,” Ron answered.

            “Alright, I’ll look it up. I’m sure I can find a book on the subject,” Hermione started. She paused in thought, before turning a stern glare on Ron and me. “The two of you better not breathe a word of this to _anyone_! You got it? If I hear rumors around the school about Malfoy being a Fairy, I’m going to hex you with Ginny’s Bat Boogeys!” The last was threatening and scary. Evidently she felt strongly about this.

            “Okay,” Ron acquiesced.

            “I wouldn’t,” I insisted. “Just the three of us can know.” Hermione nodded. “But what do we tell the others? They were harassing me during lunch?”

            “You’ll have to ask Malfoy what story he wants to tell everyone,” Hermione answered. “Now come on; we’re late to class.”

            We ran to class. I got distracted with schoolwork, but then on the way to dinner, I ran into Malfoy surrounded by a bunch of students.

            “Malfoy? Can we talk?” I asked.

            Malfoy looked over to me, stress on his face. Then he sighed and his expression shifted to one of relief. “Yes,” he answered, and pulled me into Myrtle’s loo on the second floor.

            “This is a girl’s bathroom, you do know?” I asked.

            “Yes, but no one ever comes in here. Now what do you want?” Malfoy asked.

            “What’s the story? What are we gonna tell people?” I asked.

            “The story is that Pomfrey and I kicked you out of the Hospital Wing as soon as you dropped me off, so you didn’t see or hear anything. Got it?” he asked.

            “But surely we need a better story than that! People are still going to want to know why you are bleeding,” I protested.

            “Was bleeding. Not anymore. As far as they know, Pomfrey healed me. If you must know, the story I told the Slytherins is that Crabbe and I were dueling last night and he messed up the hex and we didn’t know what went wrong. That caused internal bleeding, which eventually came out my arse. But because I was bleeding from my bum due to one of my roommates, Pomfrey asked if I’d been sexually attacked and I said yes, to see what sort of special treatment I could get out of it.” He smirked. “You know, a very _me_ thing to do. And I played it up a bit, so now I have my own room and don’t have to share with boys who might possibly, as far as Pomfrey knows, rape me.”

            “Okaaay,” I said, drawling out the second syllable in disbelief. Was this really his plan?

            “You don’t like my plan?” he asked cockily. “I think it’s brilliant.”

            “It’s just that you’re letting the whole school think Crabbe raped you?” Disbelief again.

            “No, no, no. I’m not letting anyone think Crabbe raped me. I’m letting them think that I lied to Pomfrey about Crabbe raping me, to get my own room. Don’t forget the duel gone wrong bit, yeah Potter?”

            I nodded, finally fully comprehending the plan. It was madness, but it also seemed like the type of thing he’d do, so I decided to go along with it. Besides, it sounded like he’d already told people this.

            “I have to go. I don’t want to miss dinner and have everyone notice that I’ve missed it with you,” Malfoy said, before turning and walking off towards the Great Hall.

            I hung back and then took the long way around to the Great Hall, so that we wouldn’t be seen together.

            After dinner, Ron, Hermione, and I went to the library. Ron and I set about copying Hermione’s notes from Transfigurations and passed her potions essay back and forth between us, getting ideas for our own, while Hermione busied herself looking for books. She came back to the table with a large stack, but soon narrowed it down to one large tomb, which she checked out and began to read.

            Hermione’s new book came with us to Gryffindor Tower that evening, but now she was ready to tell us what she’d learned, so we went up to our empty dorm room and locked the door for some privacy.

            She sat on my bed, book open in her lap, and started, “The Muggle term is Hermaphrodite, although Intersexed is the new more politically correct term. It’s rarer in the Muggle world and almost always covered up, so it appears even rarer than it is. Usually a Muggle with this condition is assigned a gender at birth which may or may not be the right one. When puberty hits, sometimes the gender is switched to be more appropriate, but still, the Muggles make them pick one gender or the other, when really neither fits just right. This is where Wizards are doing better; they’ve created a third gender, Fairy, to encompass those with elements of both. I’m not sure why Malfoy would have a problem with the term; it seems like a good thing not to try to force people who are both into one category or the other.”

            “But why would someone be both a boy and a girl, Hermione?” I asked, not understanding.

            “It’s genetic. There are all these genes that are involved in sex determination. If it goes wrong, then the body gets confused about which sex to become. Different genes are responsible for different aspects of sex and each causes a different disorder when mutated. And then within each disorder, the severity can range from almost normal to almost the opposite sex and everything in between. There are all these possibilities, so I can’t possibly figure out which one Malfoy has. But basically, they are sorted into three categories: Ture Hermaphroditism, where there are cells present that are genetically male and cells that are genetically female. I wasn’t aware that could happen, but the book says there are a couple of ways, like if a set of twins fuse into one baby,” she lectured.

            I jumped in there, “Is that what Malfoy has?”

            “No, I don’t think so. I can’t be sure, but it just doesn’t sound right to me,” she answered.

            “Then what is it?” Ron asked.

            “Hold on, I’m getting to that,” Hermione snapped. We waited, listening again. “So the second type is when a person has the genes to be female, but something goes wrong and they appear partially male. This is apparently really rare in the magical world. A witch’s innate magic is thought to correct this condition in utero, so although it happens in Muggles and Squibs, it’s almost unheard of among witches.”

            “So not that one, then?” I asked.

            “No, I don’t think that one is it, either. I think it’s the last one,” she answered.

            “Which is?” Ron asked, impatient.

            “A person with male genes, but some or all female genitalia. See, a baby by default is female, so it’s harder to go from female to male and easier for magic to fix. But all these genes are needed to turn a baby into a boy, so there are lots of ways that can go wrong and some aspect of the…you know…can be left to go down the default path to female, while other parts become normal boy parts. There are a lot of types and I haven’t read them all. But what is interesting, is the way magic corrects these disorders: if a male doesn’t have enough genes to became a fertile wizard, magic takes over and tries to make them fertile. If they are closest to male, the magic will make them male. If they are too far away from being male, the magic has no choice but to make them fertile as a _woman_. This means there are wizards out there that can get pregnant and have babies _without_ taking special potions. I think this is what is going on with Malfoy; why he’s having a period.”

            “Wow!” I exclaimed, fascinated.

            “Yuck!” Ron exclaimed, disgusted.

            I glared at Ron and Hermione smacked his shoulder.

            If I was Malfoy, I would’ve punched Ron. But as it was, my mind was too busy racing with trying to make sense of the new information. Malfoy could get pregnant. Malfoy has female parts. That triangle of pubes I’d seen might not have been without a visible cock by chance. What if there was no cock at all? What if he was all female down there and I’d just seen my first glimpse of naked witch? I was hard again just thinking about it. Being fourteen was like that.

            “So is that what Malfoy is then?” I asked, just to make sure.

            “I think so. It’s the most common of the three types in the Muggle World and it’s even more common in the Wizarding World. It’s probably all the inbreeding, because half of the Wizarding section of the book is on how these single Muggle disorders are typically clustered in Wizards. There’s no reason why someone should have two different unrelated sex disorders, but it happens all the time in Wizards,” Hermione said.

            “Malfoy mentioned two disorders,” I put in.

            “What were they? We could look them up,” Hermione suggested.

            “I don’t remember…they were really long names,” I replied. “But… maybe if I could see the book, I might see the names and remember.”

            “Sure,” Hermione said, passing over the book.

            I took it and began flipping through the list of conditions. I recognized Persistent Müllerian duct syndrome first. “Here, this one!” I shouted excitedly, pointing my finger at the title of the section.

            Hermione and Ron leaned in, pressing against either side of my shoulders, to read with me. Basically, it was a condition in which a wizard lacks the hormone needed to suppress the formation of the uterus and stuff. It wasn’t so serious on its own, because Muggles with it were still often fertile, with the lower bits being normal boy parts. The Wizard section on the syndrome said that it was exponentially more common in Wizards than Muggles, especially so among Purebloods. There was also some speculation that Magic had linked this disorder to other disorders, to provide a uterus for wizards who could not produce sperm.

            The second condition took me longer to find. I went past it a few times, but I remembered a number in the name of it and there was only one disorder in the book that started with a number: 5-alpha-reductase deficiency. On my third go, I flipped back to it and said, “I’m not sure, but this is the only one that fits.”

            Again, we all leaned in to read. This deficiency provided a vagina. It made the outer genitalia more feminine. There was usually a small penis or a large clit and no scrotum, explaining what I’d seen, or rather, hadn’t seen.

            “Okay, so we just need to see how they interact with Magic,” Hermione said, pulling the book towards her. She flipped to the back of the book and found a section on the two conditions manifesting together in wizards.

            Again we read. It started off by saying that it was especially common among blood purists, listing half of the families in the Sacred 28, including the Malfoy and Black families, as having known members with it. The book stated that these individuals were genetically male and almost always identified as male with male brain activity. But the genitals could look entirely female and they could have children the same as a witch. This was because magic recognized that there were no functioning male bits and therefore turned the testes into ovaries instead. Genetically male, XY, ovaries. Finally, the section went over a list of male and female traits that could be found in these individuals.

            Maybe I was a sick pervert, but reading that was _sooo hot_. I excused myself from my friends, found an empty loo, and had myself a good wank. I didn’t wank often. Most of the time I woke up with dirty sheets and didn’t need to take care of anything. But this was too much stimulation for one day. Not only had I seen pubes, but I’d just read a book about genitals. It was a tasteful book done in a clinical sounding manner, but it might as well have been porn to my fourteen-year-old brain. Especially the micropenis pictures. Why were micropenises so hot? I was more into clits than dicks, but a micropenis was infinitely more appealing to me than a clit. Although macroclit was a close second, and, way hotter than a normal clit.

            I began imagining Malfoy naked and what I would find under that big bush. I pictured him with a micropenis and then a macroclit and then kept flipping back and forth between the two as I stroked myself.

            I soon came, thinking about Malfoy. Not just his genitals, but his pale blond hair, his beautiful grey eyes, his smirk, and his intoxicating laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s 4th year, so the Yule Ball is coming up. I am also considering writing a sex-ed chapter. In it, Draco is segregated from the boys and put with the girls, despite the fact that he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s not entirely male. I just haven’t decided whether it should come before Harry asked Draco to the dance, or after the dance, or at all. It would out Draco as a “Fairy.” What do you think?


	3. Chapter 3

            Every year, the school had a class free day that everyone in our year spent in the Great Hall, listening to droning lectures about Health Education. In first year, Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey taught us the food groups, told us all to eat right and get regular exercise, and warned us that growth spurts were expected for our age group. Second year, Pomfrey and McGonagall gave us a talk about waiting for marriage and not engaging in inappropriate behavior in the astronomy tower, with a slight mention that changes to our body were normal and if we had any questions, we could see the school nurse. The abstinence talk would’ve been more effective from Snape, because no one wanted to hear Snape talk about sex, but we were only twelve and word was that Snape’s expertise was saved for the older years. Last year, Pomfrey told us all how babies were made and that this would result in girls getting periods and boys soiling their nightclothes. Professor Lupin was there for that and although he mostly kept quiet, he did say that boys could talk to him if we had any problems we didn’t feel comfortable bringing to the school nurse.

            This year was different. This year the boys and girls were to be split up. Word from George and Fred was that Dumbledore himself would talk to us boys about how to control our urges and how not to engage in sexual harassment. The headmaster knew all about the consequences of boy urges and all the particulars about what the punishments were for each offense, so Hermione reckoned it would be interesting, but I figured it would be as bad as all the other years. I was only grateful that we wouldn’t be getting Snape’s sex speeches until fifth year and up.

            The girls, according to Angelina, would be getting Sprout, to talk to them about the horrors of pregnancy and how awful babies are. Sprout was one of the few teachers on staff who was a mother, so maybe she was the best qualified to teach that lesson. But Angelina had admitted that Sprout wasn’t much of a hard arse and the day had turned out fun and informative, because they’d learned spells they’d need when it came time to be mothers, such as how to change a nappy with a wand.

            Personally, I wanted kids, so I was more interested in learning how to change nappies with Sprout than I was in learning how quickly rapists were expelled with Dumbledore. I brought my invisibility cloak with me, hoping there would be a point where I could sneak out of the boy meeting and into the girl meeting.

            So, there I was in the Great Hall with all the other boys, invisibility cloak at the top of my backpack, waiting while Dumbledore took roll call, when Professor McGonagall came in with a stern expression on her face. She walked right up to Malfoy, grabbed him by the upper arm, and said, “Mr. Malfoy, you are coming with me.”

            “But I don’t want to go! I want to learn how to not rape people!” Malfoy protested, pulling his arm free.

            “If you cause a scene, Mr. Malfoy, let the consequences be on your head,” McGonagall replied.

            I didn’t think there was anything Malfoy could do to not cause a scene, seeing as _every_ boy in the room was staring at the pair, but Malfoy seemed to be determined to cause _more_ of a scene.

            “But I’m a boy! How am I going to learn not to be a rapist, if I don’t stay for this _very_ _informative_ meeting? It’s not like boys are capable of just not sticking their junk where it doesn’t belong without being told how not to do so!” Malfoy argued sarcastically, getting laughs from most of the boys.

            Dumbledore’s voice boomed out over the hall, “Mr. Malfoy, I have every confidence that you are the lone upstanding member of your gender. Please go to your other appointment with Professor McGonagall.”

            “I am not. I need to be scared straight,” Malfoy continued to protest.

            But then Snape stepped into the entryway to the Great Hall and sent Malfoy a glaring look, which made Malfoy cower. Suddenly the laughter died. The boys whispered and pointed at Snape, then snuck glances back at Malfoy, likely wondering if Malfoy was about to be in trouble.

            “Come on, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall said, and this time, Malfoy went. Snape followed.

            Without the threat of Snape, the chatter from the boys rose louder.

            Dumbledore went back to calling out attendance over the din of gossip, skipping Malfoy’s name when he got to the Ms. Then he called out, “Potter, Harry?”

            I called back, “Here,” and Dumbledore made a note on his scroll, before moving on to the next student.

            Mandatory attendance for the boy seminar done, I slowly worked my way to the outskirts of the gathering. Then I ducked low under the far table, flung my invisibility cloak over myself, and was off to the Hospital Wing, where the girls were meeting.

            Being a fast runner, I arrived just in time to see McGonagall and Snape depositing Malfoy amongst the girls and the girls looking at Malfoy, wondering what he was doing there. Again there was whispering and pointing, a clear sign of gossiping.

            “But Professor Snape, I don’t belong here,” Malfoy protested once more.

            “That’s irrelevant,” Snape replied. “Your father signed you up for this class. According to him, he already explained exactly how quick rapist are expelled from this school and that he’d much rather have grandchildren with clean bottoms. Stay and learn something. If you do not stay for the entirety of today’s lessons, I will personally give you detention for a month.”

            Maybe Snape wasn’t all bad; he was doing his best to give Malfoy an excuse for being in the girl’s class instead of the boy’s class. But I saw through it and knew that Malfoy was being forced into this class, because he’d gotten his period and was capable of getting pregnant.

            Malfoy looked pissed, crossed arms and glowering, but he took a seat with the other female students. There wasn’t a seat for me, so I sat down on the floor in the back corner, unnoticed under my cloak.

            Snape and McGonagall left and Sprout went back to her roll-call. “Malfoy, Draco?” she called.

            “Here,” Malfoy grumbled.

            “Good. That’s everyone. Let’s get started,” Sprout said. Then she began by telling us about her personal experiences, two to be exact, with pregnancy. She said it was miserable and hard, but at the end she got two beautiful babies out of it and she wouldn’t trade them for anything. Then she went over the stages of pregnancy and the many awful symptoms one could typically expect. That was followed with a lecture on babies, including their development and what attention demanding, time hogging, pains they were.

            Then there was a break for lunch. Ron, having been in the Great Hall all morning, already had a plate full of roast chicken legs he was devouring when Hermione and I sat down next to him.

            Ron took a break from swallowing, to say with a mouth full of chicken, “Merlin Harry, you chose the wrong seminar to miss. Dumbledore went over contraceptive charms and lubrication charms. We’re all practically masters at sex now!”

            “I thought you were meant to have a lecture on rape and the associated penalties,” Hermione said, leaning in front of me to say it directly to Ron.

            Ron waved a hand and swallowed. “We did that first. We spent half an hour on the penalties, after half an hour on what constituted which types of sexual assault. The rest of the morning was on sex. Capital S E X. Never thought I’d hear that from Dumbledore, but the wizard knows his sex magic.”

            “I can’t believe it! Why would Dumbledore teach the lot of you how to do sex magic, when word is Snape spends fifth, sixth, and seventh year lecturing on how it’s not supposed to be done until marriage?” Hermione asked.

            Ron shrugged.

            “Well it doesn’t matter, because Hermione and I still had the better lecture. We learned the theory on how to handle a pregnancy and a baby and after lunch, we’re going to learn the spells,” I bragged, before taking a large bite of my own piece of chicken.

            “I thought I saw an aberration of light after Malfoy came in. But you know, Harry, you won’t get to learn the spells properly if you keep hidden after lunch. You need to practice them, if you want to really be able to do them,” Hermione said.

            “Don’t know why Harry would want that,” Ron put in.

            “Because I want to have children someday and I don’t want to leave it up to my spouse to do all the taking care of the baby,” I replied.

            Hermione smiled at that, patted me on the back, and said, “Well said, Harry. Besides, Ron, I heard George and Fred talking just now and they said the boys spend their afternoons going over sexy scenarios that aren’t reciprocated and how to know when to back off.”

            “Sounds boring to me. Besides, Muggles have sex all the time and they don’t need spells to do it,” I concluded.

            Ron said something through a mouth so stuffed with chicken that I couldn’t understand it.

            While Ron was talking through his chicken, I noticed a commotion over at the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Blaise Zabini had all stood up and were yelling at each other. I couldn’t hear what was being said at first, but a hush started to fall over the Great Hall, including Ron, who stopped in the middle of whatever it was he was saying, and then I could hear.

            “—a bloody girl! I knew something was wrong when you lied about me cursing you when you were bleeding, but I didn’t realize that you were a _girl_!” Crabbe snarled.

            “I am _not_ a girl!” Malfoy yelled back.

            “That’s right, because he’s a bloody Fairy!” Goyle said with a laugh.

            Malfoy took a swing at Goyle, but Zabini pulled him back and he missed.

            Theo Nott jumped up, looking ready to intervene, but Zabini seemed to have it under control.

            “I am _not_ a Fairy!” Malfoy exclaimed. “A Fairy is a tiny two-inch magical creature with wings. I do not have wings! I am a person! A wizard. I’d say that I’m the same as the two of you, only we’re not the same. One of us has a brain and the others do not.”

            “Are you calling me stupid?” Goyle asked angrily.

            “No, I am calling both you and Vince stupid,” Malfoy corrected.

            And that was it. Both Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward, wands drawn and casting. Zabini jerked Malfoy out of the way, putting himself in front of Malfoy, just as Nott stepped into Crabbe’s path, wand drawn. Zabini cast a shield charm just in time to counter the hex Crabbe sent. Daphne Greengrass got into the fight too, casting an Expelliarmus at Goyle, without even getting up from the bench.

            Slytherin Prefects rose, casting Expelliarmus at the lot of fourth years. Snape stormed over, robes billowing, to collect the wands and assign detentions. He didn’t take any house points though, citing the quick action of the Slytherin prefects for preventing the fight from escalating. Snape ordered Crabbe and Goyle to sit on one end of the Slytherin table and Malfoy to sit on the other. Then it was over, the Slytherins settled down, and everyone went back to eating and gossiping about what just happened.

            An envoy came over to our table from the Ravenclaw table, to say that the fight was about why Malfoy was with the girls and not the boys today. With that new tidbit, Crabbe and Goyle had finally put two and two together and decided that Malfoy had gotten his own room, because Malfoy was a Fairy. Malfoy had denied it, but the evidence was piling up. People still remembered the bloody robes in Transfigurations and with today being our annual health seminar, periods were on the students’ minds. It seemed to me that Malfoy was found out and there was nothing that could be done now, other than accept it and move on.

            After lunch, I left my invisibility cloak off and walked with the girls to the Hospital Wing. Hermione held my hand for support and just as we approached the doorway, she whispered, “You can do this Harry. If Malfoy is allowed to switch, so can you.”

            “You are in the wrong class, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said as I walked into the Hospital Wing.

            “Yeah, um, about that. I don’t want to learn any more boring sex spells. I want to have children. Could I switch? You’ve let Malfoy switch, so I should be able to switch too,” I said, less confident at the beginning, and more confident at the end.

            “You _actually_ want to be in the miserable class?” Malfoy asked with a laugh.

            “Yes, I do. I don’t see why I need to learn spells to have sex, when Muggles don’t need them. And like I said, I want children. Lots of them. I might even like to be a stay-at-home dad. They do that sometimes in the Muggle world,” I replied.

            “I don’t see a problem with it, Poppy. Dumbledore told me Mr. Potter snuck out of his class this morning and warned me that I might see him popping up here in mine,” Sprout said from the front of the room, where she was organizing pamphlets.

            “How did Dumbledore know?” Hermione whispered by my side.

            “Doesn’t matter. I’m going with it,” I whispered back. Then I raised my voice and spoke to Pomfrey. “See? No problem. And if you don’t have a practice doll for me, Hermione’s willing to share.”

            Hermione nodded.

            “You can have mine,” Malfoy shouted out, hand indicating the doll in front of him.

            “No, Mr. Malfoy. Your father’s letter indicated that he plans on marrying you off to a witch who plans on having a career. You as well will be the ‘stay-at-home dad,’ as Mr. Potter put it,” Sprout said, giving Malfoy a bit of an excuse to be here.

            Malfoy huffed, but said no more.

            “Poppy, could you put out an extra doll for Mr. Potter?” Sprout asked.

            Pomfrey agreed and that settled it. I was given a life-sized newborn doll and allowed to practice right next to Hermione.

            It turned out to be probably the _most_ useful Health Education class I’d ever had. I left that class competent at changing nappies, checking temperatures, pureeing baby food, and baby proofing houses, all with spells. I could also change a baby’s clothes, and hold and burp a baby, the Muggle way. Additionally, I had a pamphlet with which foods and potions were safe for babies and which ones were not, along with a book with the recipes for the safe baby potions. The spells we learned, along with a few extra, were also in the book, in case we forget. I planned on tucking that book away in my trunk to keep it safe.

            I had a big smile on my face as Hermione and I walked into the Great Hall for dinner.

            “How was girl class?” Ron asked as we sat down next to him. By the appearance of his plate, he’d already scarfed down half a lasagna.

            “Wonderful. Sorry you missed it. Best class all year,” I replied, helping myself to my own piece of lasagna.

            “Perhaps it really would be better to have everyone just take the girl class,” Hermione added, also smiling.

            There was a commotion at the Slytherin table again. I looked up to see that Malfoy had approached the end where Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Nott were all sitting.

            “Just go to the other side, Draco. You don’t want another detention,” Nott was saying.

            “No, I want all of you to know: I’m not the only boy who was in the Hospital Wing today. Harry Potter crashed the class,” Malfoy announced loudly.

            “So?” Crabbe asked.

            “Yeah, what does that have to do with you being a poufy Fairy?” Goyle asked.

            “I am _not_ a Fairy. Potter and I were simply in the other class, because we want to be stay-at-home dads and sit on our lazy arses, while our _wives_ do all the work,” Malfoy replied.

            Hearing this, I felt a bit proud of myself, glad I’d given him another excuse.

            “Doesn’t matter what Potter’s playing at. You’re still a Fairy,” Crabbe concluded.

            “Then Potter’s a Fairy too. Why don’t you go tell him that to his face?” Malfoy challenged.

            Slowly, the heads of all the Slytherin fourth year boys swiveled to look at me watching them.

            I stood up and said, “Er, if that’s what you lot want to call sitting on my arse with a baby all day while my wife does all the work, like Malfoy said, then fine with me.”

            Neville, kind heart that he was, reached out to tug on my sleeve and whisper, “Harry! Fairy means something else in the Wizarding World!”

            At the same time, a Slytherin prefect stood up and ordered Malfoy to sit at the other end of the Slytherin table. Both Nott and Zabini got up to go with Malfoy, leaving Crabbe and Goyle alone. The fourth year Slytherin girls all took seats on Malfoy’s side, making it seem like Crabbe and Goyle were outed from Malfoy’s gang, but otherwise, his gang was intact.

            Later than evening, when Hermione and I were in the common room, she leaned into me and whispered, “You know Harry, I feel quite bad for Malfoy after today.”

            “Why’s that? He got to go to the good class,” I whispered back.

            “Yes, but he’s practically been outed as a Fairy to the entire school! He can keep denying it, but no one believes him. I wouldn’t want to be outed like that, if it were me. And from the way it sounded, I don’t think he wanted to be outed at all,” she said.

            I nodded, feeling bad for him as well. It was bad enough that he’d been born with a medical condition, worse that it was a condition involving his private parts, and not at all fair that now the entire school knew. “Dumbledore should’ve done something about it; let Malfoy sit in on the boy class and arrange private tutoring with Pomfrey,” I replied.

            “Harry, are you aware you just argued that Draco Malfoy should be given special treatment?” Hermione asked, a smirk quirking up the corner of one lip.

            “Yeah, I am. In this case, he should’ve gotten special treatment,” I insisted.

            “I agree,” she said.

* * *

 

            In the days to come, I kept an eye out for the Slytherins and the divide seemed to be lasting. Crabbe and Goyle were no longer Malfoy’s henchmen, forever at his side, but Malfoy still had the rest of the Slytherins in his year. I felt a little bad for him, because he’d obviously lost his two best friends and he clearly wasn’t as close with the other Slytherins. But, a larger part of me was glad that Malfoy’s little gang was permanently broken, hoping that maybe Malfoy wouldn’t be such an arse without his sidekicks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been thinking about doing a sex-ed scene in a story for a long time. I don’t think I lived up to my own expectations, but I hope it’s alright. Next, Harry will be asking Draco to the Yule Ball.  
> By the way, I am also working on another story, called Advantages of Foresight. In it, Draco is a psychic and can see his future unraveling in a direction he doesn’t want to go down, but he has a plan to gain Harry’s sympathy and change the future.  
> Please Review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I managed to get this done a day sooner than planned, because of all the inspiration you give me :D

            It was the last week of classes before Christmas, and as the holidays grew closer, pressure to find a date for the Yule Ball mounted. It seemed that everyone was pairing off around me.

            Pansy Parkinson had been clinging to Malfoy a lot lately. Today as we stood in the Dungeons outside Potions waiting for Snape to arrive, Parkinson was being particularly sickening. One of her arms was wrapped over his shoulder—as best she could manage, because he was a good deal taller than her—and the other was running up and down his arm. She had her ugly pug face turned up to his ear, whispering.

            It made me jealous how close they were. I wanted Malfoy. Ever since I’d taken him to the Hospital Wing, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The unfair treatment he’d suffered during our Health Class humanized him, so that I stopped thinking of him as a spoiled Slytherin brat and thought of him more as a person with struggles, just like me. His struggles were different—horrible racists parents, a medical condition that made his genitalia not match his brain, and a school too insensitive not to spread it around—but they were struggles still.

            I wanted to be the one to take him to the Yule Ball. But how could I, when Parkinson was draped all over him? I balled my fists as I watched.

            I couldn’t believe my eyes when Malfoy did exactly what I wanted him to do, as if he’d read my mind: he pried Parkinson’s hands off him and pushed her away.

            “Give it a rest Pansy; I’m not taking you to the Yule Ball,” Malfoy said.

            A smile lit up my face.

            Parkinson, looking offended, put her hands on her hips and asked, “And why not?” in a shrill tone.

            “Because I’m gay,” Malfoy started.

            “Yes!” I shouted, unable to help myself. I quickly covered my mouth with my hands, embarrassed I’d said anything.

            He continued his petulant reply to Parkinson, without acknowledging me. “I’m not taking a witch to a dance, period. Ever. I’m not even going to go to this stupid dance.”

            There was silence for a moment. Parkinson pulled away from Malfoy looking hurt. She stepped back, away from the other Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle must have sensed their opportunity had arrived, because they moved in to console her. I wondered which oaf would end up taking her to the dance.

            Malfoy regrouped, Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass on either side, clearly being supportive. He acknowledged them with a small smile and a pat to each of their shoulders. Then he turned his attention to me.

            “And what was that supposed to mean, Potter? You plan on making fun of me for being gay, is that it?” Malfoy asked, his displeasure directed at me now.

            “No,” I denied.

            “Then what?” he pressed, eyebrow raised.

            “I wanted to ask you,” I blurted out.

            “Ask me what?” he asked.

            “To the ball,” I revealed, no going back now. I needed a date and I didn’t want him mad at me for misconstruing my intentions.

            I heard Ron gasp in shock, but Hermione put a hand over his mouth, shutting him up.

            “Are you gay, Potter?” Malfoy asked pointedly, like this was a bad thing. For a moment, I felt like he was about to start making fun of me for being gay, even though he’d just admitted the same about himself.

            “I don’t know…” I hedged. Truthfully, I hadn’t thought about it much.

            “Do you fancy blokes?” he asked.

            “One of them,” I answered truthfully.

            “Do you fancy birds?” he asked.

            “Nope, not really,” I answered. When the boys in my dorm had gone on about various girls they found attractive, I’d tried to go along with it. I’d considered the girls, tried to think about them when I wanked. But my attention always drifted back to Malfoy and how much hotter he was.

            “Then who do you fancy?” he pressed.

            “Draco Malfoys, so far. They’re hot,” I admitted in a bold rush of Gryffindor bravery. It wasn’t like I was about to admit I had a thing for Fairies, though I expected that was what it was. He’d made his dislike for the term clear and he didn’t want people calling him one. “Go to the dance with me?”

            “No,” he responded automatically, not even thinking about it.

            “Please? Just consider it. I’m begging you: McGonagall says I _have_ to go and you’re the only one I want to go with. I’d blow it off if I could,” I said.

            “No. Why would I go out with you, Potter? You’re mean to me,” he replied, as if it were all my fault and he hadn’t deserved any of it.

            “Not lately,” I retorted. He’d been more subdued since getting his period; still sarcastic and insulting, but less obnoxious about it and less attention seeking. And he definitely hadn’t picked me out to start a fight with, saving his animosity for Crabbe and Goyle. Consequently, I hadn’t done anything to him lately.

            “You wouldn’t even take one of the Hogwarts champion badges I made! I offered one to you! I worked _really_ hard on them. I made them myself,” he said, unclipping one of the many Potter Stinks pins from his backpack. He held it out to me, daring me with his eyes to take it, like it wasn’t an insult.

            I tentatively reached out and hesitantly took it, not knowing how I was supposed to take this. Was it a joke? But once it was in my grip, I smiled widely, as if it was a treasured gift. It was a bit unexplainable why this made me so happy. “Thanks!” I exclaimed, clipping it onto the front of my robes. He’d given me something he’d made himself and he wanted me to be nice to him. I was ecstatic, even if the situation was weird.

            The corner of Malfoy’s lip curled up and his lips twitched, suppressing a smile. He turned and walked away, back into his group of Slytherins, without another word, but I knew I’d won. He might not have agreed to go out with me, but I was winning him over.

            Ron punched me in the shoulder, not incredibly hard, but hard enough to hurt and bring me out of my daze.

            “Fifty points from Gryffindor for fighting in the halls!” Snape announced as he arrived, robes billowing. “Twenty-five points for each of you.”

            “What did you do that for?” Hermione hissed as we filed into the classroom. “Now you’ve cost us fifty points! We’re never going to win the house cup this year!”

            Hermione and Ron looked like they wanted to continue their bickering as we took our seats, but I nudged Hermione and motioned with my head towards Snape, who was looking at us like he was milliseconds away from deducting more points or assigning detentions, or both. Hermione quickly shut up and nudged Ron, copying my head motioning gesture, until Ron caught on.

            It was only after dinner in our dorm room that I finally found out what Ron was on about.

            “You have _horrid_ tastes, mate! I can’t believe you asked Malfoy out! You didn’t even clear it with me!” Ron exclaimed, hands rumpling his orange hair.

            “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize I had to _clear_ my dates with you first!” I countered, quickly growing annoyed with my best friend.

            “When it’s Malfoy, yeah, you do!” Ron challenged.

            “Well it’s not Malfoy, is it, because he turned me down flat!” I shouted back. I was upset about being turned down. My friends should be comforting me, not yelling at me about who it was I liked or yelling at me about losing house points, because Ron was a jerk.

            “Oh yeah. You really dodged a bullet there, mate,” Ron replied sounding relieved.

            My fury rose up and I snapped. I leapt towards Ron and punched him in the nose.

            Ron recoiled in pain, covering his nose. “Ow! What was that for?”

            “I _like_ Malfoy, you twit! I don’t care if you don’t get it. You’re not gay; I am! Malfoy is hot! Ask one of the girls if you don’t believe me!” I shouted angrily. I was so riled up, that my earlier questioning of my sexuality was forgotten. I still didn’t know if I was gay or if I just liked Malfoy, but it didn’t matter. Gay was a convenient term. It was at the forefront of my mind, so I went with it.

            Just then, Lee Jordan entered the room, followed by George and Fred Weasley.

            “What’s going on in here?” Lee asked seriously, fingering a prefect’s badge.

            “Nothing,” Ron said, crawling backwards, still clutching his nose.

            “Doesn’t look like nothing. Looks like our ickle Ronnikins got beat up by the scrawniest dweeb in fourth year,” Fred said.

            “And, I heard you lot lost us fifty points today from Snape,” George added.

            “Why do you have a prefect’s badge, Lee?” I asked, pointing at the badge. Lee wasn’t a prefect. None of these three were.

            “Oh this? We nicked it off Percy. No one would believe these two were prefects for a second, so I decided to give it a go. How do I look? You think anyone would fall for it?” Lee asked, posing with his back straight and his chest out.

            “Oh yeah, you look just like Percy,” I lied, nodding eagerly.

            “I’m not trying to look like Percy! I’m trying to look like a prefect, in general,” Lee explained.

            “Back to the point. Harry, why’d you hit our widdle baby brother just now and why’d you cost us house points?” George asked.

            “Yeah, you should’ve saved the entire fight until just now, so we wouldn’t have lost house points for you beating the snot out of Ronnikins,” Fred added.

            “Although, I should probably deduct house points for you beating the snot out of Ron, now that I have Percy’s badge,” Lee said importantly.

            “Oh, shove off!” Fred said, pushing Lee. “We’ve lost enough points already.”

            The three older students looked at each other, laughed, and then schooled their faces into stern expressions of authority.

            “So, let’s hear it. What’s the problem with you lovebirds now? I thought everything was cleared up since the dragon?” Fred asked.

            “Harry asked Draco Malfoy to the ball!!! Can you believe that!?!” Ron asked, incredulity in his tone.

            “Well he’s hot and there aren’t many gay boys in our year, if you haven’t noticed,” I countered.

            “Ah, our little Harry has a crush!” Fred proclaimed, hugging me and rubbing his knuckles on my head.

            “Awe, first love!” George proclaimed, joining Fred at knuckling my head and patting me on the back good-naturedly.

            “But it’s _Malfoy_! It’s sick!” Ron protested.

            “Actually, I think Malfoy’s kinda hot,” Lee put in.

            “Lee!?!” Ron asked in shock.

            Lee shrugged. “What? I’m bi. Curse me. I can find the beauty in anyone.”

            “But Malfoy’s a little too young for you, mate. Best leave the Pureblood Twat to our little Harry,” Fred said.

            “Sure. Besides, I’ve already got a date for Yule: Jamie,” Lee replied.

            “So Ron, can we leave, or are you not done being a dumb arse to your best mate who only just forgave your last bout of dumb-arsery?” George asked.

            “But it’s Malfoy,” Ron protested weakly.

            “And Lee and Harry, the only experts on hot blokes in the room, agree that Malfoy is fit. He does it for their sort. If Malfoy had a hot sister with a nice rack, none of us would hit you for drooling over them,” Fred said wisely, while at the same making a juggling sort of motion on his chest, like he was mimicking a pair of tits.

            “Besides, Malfoy turned me down. Wouldn’t even consider it,” I put in.

            “You hear that? Malfoy turned him down. You should be consoling him, not making him punch you,” Fred continued.

            “All right. Fine. Whatever. Harry has bad tastes. But, I better not see him asking Crabbe and Goyle out next,” Ron caved.

            “Ew, no! Never Crabbe or Goyle,” I confirmed.

            “Well that settles it then. Give each other big non-gay hugs and we’ll be on our way,” George said.

            “Yeah, we’ve got some mischief to manage with Percy’s badge, while we’ve got it,” Fred added.

            I approached Ron tentatively at first. He approached me with one hand over his nose, for protection. But with Fred, George, and Lee cheering us on, we dropped our guards and hugged briefly.

            “I guess I’m sorry for not being supportive about Malfoy rejecting you, even though you do have bloody awful tastes,” Ron said.

            “And I’m sorry for punching you in the nose. It’s not broken, is it?” I asked.

            “No, I don’t think so,” Ron answered.

            “Good, then it’s settled. You two lovebirds have made up. No one’s taking Malfoy to the dance. And Harry, you’re not too upset by being blown off by a hot bloke, are you?” Fred asked.

            I shook my head, even though I sort of was. I was too used to keeping my feelings bottled up to want to talk about it more right now.

            “Great! Time to go. See you later!” Fred called, running towards the door.

            George called out, “Later,” and followed Fred out.

            Lee called out, “Let me know if you need advice on which blokes are single and gay,” and then he too left.

            Ron and I were left in awkward silence for a moment. Then he asked, “You’re not going to take Lee up on his offer, are you?”

            “I don’t know… I have to go to the dance, but there’s no one else I want to go with,” I answered.

            The awkward silence returned for another minute.

            “You don’t think someone like Fleur is hot?” Ron asked, saying Fleur’s name dreamily.

            Just then Dean, Seamus, and Neville came into the room, talking loudly to each other.

            I shook my head and let the subject fall. No, Fleur was not my type. Not even her Veela charm affected me the way it did everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Hearing your thoughts and opinions really stimulates my writing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank 7HedwigtheBoo7 and DracosDirtyMistress for reviewing the last chapter!

            The morning of the first day of winter holidays I walked into the Great Hall wearing my Potter Stink’s pin, as I had every day since Malfoy gave it to me. Malfoy caught my eye immediately and jumped up from the Slytherin table, unusually full with all of the students staying for the ball, and running up to me before I could reach my table.

            “I’ve changed my mind, Potter. Ask me again,” he requested.

            “Ask you what?” I asked, too sleepy to realize that I’d won.

            “To the dance,” he replied.

            “Oh sure, I’ll go to the dance with you,” I said, catching on.

            “No, no, no. I’m not asking you. You’re asking me. Ask properly,” he insisted.

            I stared at him with incredulity at this. Was he having me on? Did he just want me to ask him again, so that he could reject me in front of the whole school? I blinked and asked, “Wha?”

            “Down on one knee with a corsage; that’s the Pureblood way to ask,” he hissed, as if I was embarrassing him.

            “I don’t have a corsage,” I protested dumbly.

            “You can give it to me later! Just ask me before I change my mind!” he hissed.

            “Will you,” I started to say, but he cut me off.

            “No, no, on one knee at least,” he corrected.

            I lowered myself to bended knee, looking up at him confused. I half expected him to smack me and half expected him to make fun of me, or both.

            But he didn’t do either; what he did was hold out his hand to me, like a lady would. “Take my hand,” he hissed.

            I took it. It was soft and warm.

            “Now ask me!” he hissed again.

            “Will you go to the dance with me?” I asked.

            “Yes. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked, pulling me up by the hand he still gripped.

            I didn’t answer, afraid I’d insult him, especially because I was still so confused.

            “There are certain conditions, of course. My solicitor will be here with the contract this evening for you to sign. My father doesn’t like you; hence the need to go very formal with it all. We can’t give him any excuse to accuse you of impropriety. I suggest you look up the old formal Pureblood courting rules; that way next time you’ll know when you’re supposed to kneel.”

            “What sort of conditions?” I asked uneasily, wondering what I’d gotten myself into.

            “No sex. Stuff like that. I’m not a slut,” he answered.

            I nodded, because I wasn’t expecting sex from him on the first date. I didn’t think I was ready for it either. Although, Little Harry did make his eagerness apparent in my pants.

            “Good. After dinner, in Snape’s office,” he said.

            “Okay,” I replied.

            He stood there waiting for something. Then he rolled his eyes and caved. “You can kiss the back of my hand now, Potter.”

            “Oh!” I did so, raising his hand to my lips like in old Muggle movies.

            He smiled at me, full and beaming, and the sight made my heart flutter. Then he extricated his hand and turned, calling over his shoulder, “After dinner, Snape’s office, tonight. Don’t forget.”

            “I won’t,” I called back, watching him go.

            By the time I sat down at my table between Ron and Hermione, all of Gryffindor was looking at me, and I could feel my face hurting with how wide I was smiling.

            “I’ve got a date to the dance,” I said dreamily.

            “Oh shove off,” Ron replied, pushing me on the shoulder.

            I was glad his reaction wasn’t worse and guessed that our earlier fight had taken the sting out of it.

            “At least I’ve got a date,” I replied cheekily. My crush on Malfoy had paid off, but I highly doubted Ron’s crush on Fleur would do the same.

 

* * *

 

            That night, in Snape’s office, I learned the exact terms of the contract Malfoy wanted me to sign.

            “This is just a standard courtship form, agreeing that the first date will occur on Yule at the school dance. Initial the first line if you agree to take Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy to said dance,” the solicitor instructed.

            I initialed.

            The solicitor went on to explain that this was a binding contract, so as soon as I signed my name at the bottom, there was no going back and I had to do all of the things I initialed or I would no longer be in good standing with Malfoy and his parents. That wasn’t much of a penalty these days; basically it amounted to Lucius and Narcissa not paying for the wedding. The greater threat was that violation was grounds for Draco Malfoy to break up with me. On the other hand, this contract meant we were going steady or something, which was what I wanted. Overall, the contract was very good.

            “This next one details the events that the first date will include, namely: dancing at the Yule Ball, at least four songs, holding hands when appropriate, a stroll through the gardens, and a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night.”

            I initialed. Dancing was a stretch, but it was a dance.

            “Initial the next one if you agree that there shall be no vaginal intercourse. Vaginal intercourse must wait until marriage, because of Mr. Malfoy’s fertility. Pureblood society puts the blame for out of wedlock pregnancies _entirely_ on the shoulders of the wizard, which in this case, is you, Mr. Potter, even though you are both wizards,” the solicitor said.

            I initialed. It was too soon for sex anyway.

            “Initial here that you agree there will be no pregnancy prior to wedlock. The consequences of violating this stipulation is that Mr. Draco Malfoy will retain full and complete custody of any child created thusly.”

            That seemed reasonable. It’s not like I could be a single dad when I lived with the Dursleys during the summer. I initialed.

            “Initial here if you agree that there shall be no anal sex, ever.” I initialed. He had a vagina, so what did we need anal sex for?

            “Here, for no oral sex before Mr. Malfoy is of age sixteen.” I initialed. That wasn’t that far away.

            “Here, for no touching of privates, under or over clothing, until the age of sixteen.” I initialed, although I would’ve liked to do just that. But this was the first date and maybe the contract for the second date could have a little more touching.

            “Here, stating that the quantity and duration of any kissing, snogging, or making out will occur at the discretion of Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter will stop all such lip on lip contact when Mr. Malfoy wishes.” That one sounded like I was getting permission to snog Malfoy senseless, so I initialed it with extra vigor, Little Harry getting very happy about that.

            “This one here that you will not be taking any other witch, wizard, or sentient being to the ball, besides Mr. Draco Malfoy.”

            I looked at the solicitor in confusion.

            “You will _only_ be taking Draco to the ball, no one else. No cheating,” the solicitor explained.

            I initialed. Duh. Does he know how hard it was to get _one_ hot date? How in the world could I ever end up with two? Why would I even want two? It was a daunting task just thinking about keeping Malfoy happy. I didn’t need two of him.

            “This one here says that you will notify Mr. Malfoy and his parents in writing if you intend to terminate this courtship. If you sign here, you cannot cheat on Mr. Malfoy without incurring monetary damages and you can’t dump him and start going out with someone else, without writing it down in a formal letter addressed to both Draco and his parents,” the solicitor said.

            I nodded and initialed. That seemed fair. I wasn’t a cheater. The monetary fine wasn’t that high either; only two galleons.

            “Alright, that is everything. If you’d like, you may have time to think this over before signing. I can come back later to finalize this document, if you need,” the solicitor said.

            I thought for a moment, decided that everything had been super reasonable and not at all the crazy demands I’d feared. I signed.

            “No need,” I said smiling.

            The solicitor made copies for me and Malfoy and kept the original for himself. Then he went to speak to Snape, who had been grading papers at his desk.

            Malfoy came up to me, took my hand, and led me out the door. We stopped just on the other side of the door, Malfoy pressing it closed with his bum, his fingers still entwined with mine.

            “Thank you for agreeing to all this arcane nonsense,” he said, hand reaching up to brush a lock of my hair out of my eyes.

            “Well I’d thought we’d start with anal sex and an unplanned pregnancy, but I can live without it,” I joked.

            He cracked a smile. “You should know that not only am I fertile, but also I have no idea how to prevent conception. That’s entirely your responsibility,” he warned.

            “Noted,” I said and promptly forgot. He probably assumed I knew, because I was supposed to have been at the boy version of this year’s health class, when in reality, I’d followed him to the girl’s class. But that was no matter, because we weren’t having sex, so there was no way he’d get pregnant.

            “Walk me to my Common Room?” he asked.

            I nodded.

            The walk was short, but I got to hold his hand the whole way there. And best of all, he told me to kiss him on the cheek, which I did, before he disappeared inside the portrait hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events in this chapter will become very important later in the story…  
> Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

            The next day, Malfoy ran after me as I left breakfast.

            “Potter, wait!” he called.

            I turned, pleasantly surprised, and asked, “Yes?” I’d thought the first date would be the dance and he would ignore me until then.

            “I want to see how well you dance,” he said, reaching a hand out to take mine.

            His fingers were long and boney, but soft and delicate at the same time. His touch sent tingles down my arm.

            “What?” I asked, beginning to panic.

            “You asked me to a dance. I need to know if I need to teach you to dance,” he explained.

            “I can’t dance,” I admitted.

            “You ask me to a dance and you can’t dance,” he said deadpanned. “Why am I not surprised?”

            “You’ll teach me?” I asked hopefully.

            “I guess I’ll have to. Good thing we have two weeks without lessons to prepare. Come on, we need to find a room with a good floor,” he said.

            We tried a number of abandoned classrooms, before he settled on one with a wood floor that was in good shape. We moved the desks and furniture to the sides of the room. Then he produced a Wizard’s Wireless from his backpack and my nerves began to overwhelm me. What if he dumped me, before we even got to the dance, because I sucked so bad?

            Then the music came on and it was an old-time waltz and that made it so much worse! I wrung my hands and retreated until my back was against the wall, wishing I had my invisibility cloak on me and could disappear. This was not good.

            Then Malfoy was in front of me, fingers threading into mine, other hand on my shoulder as he nudged us towards the dance floor. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

            “You’re gonna dump me when you see how rubbish I am,” I answered, lip trembling. Worse, I could feel my cheeks warming in a blush.

            He raised a hand to my face and gently stroked my cheek. “No I won’t. That’s why I’m teaching you. Don’t worry, I’ll lead. Plus, I happen to have the soundtrack for the dance. I owled the Weird Sisters. The base player’s mother has been wanting to have tea with my mother, so I asked my mother to invite her to tea and he gave me the list of songs they’ll be doing.”

            “You did all that?” I asked, melting into his touch. Little Harry took notice too.

            “Yes. I’ll teach you how to dance and we’ll practice with the actual songs and when our date comes, you’ll know just what to do,” he said reassuringly.

            I nodded into his hand, still on my cheek.

            “Good. Now we should start with the waltz. That’s the first song,” he said, aiming his wand at the wireless. The music restarted from the beginning.

            Malfoy moved my hands into position and patiently explained the steps of this dance. I was horrible at first, but we repeated it over and over again and I began to get the hang of it. I wasn’t good, but I stopped stepping on his feet. In my defense, I had an erection through the _entire_ thing and that didn’t help.

            We took a break for him to heal his feet and for me to rest. When his argyle socks came off, I saw bruises forming and swollen toes.

            “I’m sorry,” I said, sitting down next to him.

            “No worries. I’m sure your feet are sore too,” he said, before casting a healing spell and making it all go away.

            “Yeah,” I answered.

            “Well take off your shoes,” he directed.

            “What?” I asked confused.

            “Take them off, unless you have horribly smelly foot odor or something and you don’t want me to know,” he teased.

            I took my shoes off, revealing my ratty socks. They had holes in them. I pulled off the socks as quickly as possible and hid them in my pocket, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

            Thankfully, he didn’t say anything. Instead he picked up my feet, tender despite the fact that he hadn’t stepped on me once, and cast the healing spell. Instantly my feet felt better, as if I hadn’t spent the morning dancing.

            “I need a break. Tell me about your dragon egg. Did you figure out the clue?” he asked.

            “No. I opened it once and it made a horrible screeching sound. I haven’t given it a thought since,” I answered.

            “I want to see! Go get it!” He was excited, an eager smile on his face.

            “Alright,” I said, wanting to please him. I didn’t think that smile would stay on his face once he heard the screeching, but the egg was beautiful to look at.

            I put on my shoes, went up to my dorm room, fetched the egg, and returned to the classroom, without wanking. A large part of me wanted to stop to wank, so that the erection I’d had all morning would go away. The other part didn’t want to leave Malfoy waiting.

            Malfoy was there, but not right where I’d left him. He was sitting at one of the desks, still pushed up against the wall, parchment and ink in front of him and a quill in his hands.

            “What are you doing?” I asked.

            “Oh, just making a quick sketch,” he answered, blushing.

            I looked at his parchment and saw a line-cartoon drawing of two wizards twirling around the page. One had dark hair and a scar on his forehead, the other was blond, tall, and pointy. “That’s us?” I asked, pointing to the figures.

            “Yeah. I just wanted to capture this moment,” he answered, smiling up at me.

            I smiled at him. Then I thrust out the giant egg in my hands. “Here. I brought it,” I said unnecessarily, motioning with my chin towards the egg.

            “I see,” he said, putting down his quill and capping his ink bottle. “Well, open it up. Let me hear.” He motioned towards the egg with one hand as he stood and closed the space between us.

            I opened it. It was awful. He covered his ears and bent over in pain. I wanted to cover mine, but instead I concentrated on closing the thing so that the sound would stop. It was so awful, it made my boner deflate; I was only half hard now.

            When it was over, he stood up and said, “I hate Mermish out of water.”  
            “Mermish? Is that what that is?” I asked, excited for a clue. No one in Gryffindor had recognized the awful sound.

            “Yes. They sing quite prettily under water, but above water…”

            “How do you know?” I asked, wondering if the Malfoys had mermaids on their property.

            “In Slytherin, there are windows that face out onto the Black Lake. Mermaids come by sometimes. We can often hear them singing. Pansy, Milli, Daphne, and Tracey once got to making friends with a little Mergirl our age. This was back in Second Year. They convinced me and the others to go with them out to the lake to meet her. It sounded like that.” At the end, he waved his wand in the direction of my egg.

            “Oh…Do you think she could tell us what it means?” I asked hopefully.

            “I don’t think we need all that. We just need to put it under water. Come on! There’s a Prefects bathroom just down the hall. A tub is big enough!” he exclaimed, gathering up his things.

            I slung my backpack over my shoulder and carried the egg, letting Malfoy lead the way to the loo. I didn’t ask how he knew about the prefect’s bathrooms, even though we were too young to be prefects yet. I just assumed he’d cheated and used them when he wasn’t supposed to.

            He stopped outside the door. “Just so we are clear, I am not inviting you into the loo with me for sex or any other inappropriate activities. Everyone’s clothes are to remain on at all times. Only the egg is getting the bath,” he said seriously.

            Why did he have to say that? Just mentioning sex was enough for Little Harry to resume straining in my pants.

            I nodded. “All right.” I wasn’t going to jump him. We hadn’t even had the first date yet. The only thing that had been going through my mind was that I was finally making progress on solving my egg.

            He went in first and spelled on the tap. I followed, setting my backpack down and pulling up my sleeves. I set the egg in the tub and we waited for the water to fill up around it.

            “I wish I could compete in the tournament,” he said as we waited.

            “I didn’t want to compete. I was hoping to lay low for once and just watch,” I admitted. Well, part of me wanted to compete, but I hadn’t put my name in that goblet.

            He nodded. “I recon Moody’s done it. It’s always the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. There’s a curse on the position,” he said.

            “No! Moody? Not uh,” I protested.

            “Why not Moody? You think it’s McGonagall or Sprout? Or Merlin forbid, Flitwick? Yeah, I can just see _Flitwick_ reaching up with those tiny little arms of his, standing on a stack of old textbooks a mile high, to reach the thing.”

            “He’s an Auror. He wouldn’t do that,” I protested, referring to Moody. Of course it wasn’t McGonagall, Sprout, or Flitwick.

            Malfoy shrugged. “Could have fooled me. I’ve seen nicer Death Eaters.”

            “Oh, the ferret thing. I’m sorry about that,” I said. Little Harry softened at the memory.

            He started crying then. Little Harry regained interest, which made me feel disgusted with myself.

            “It’s okay. Sure it was embarrassing being turned into a ferret, but no one even talks about it anymore,” I tried to reassure him.

            “I was so scared. I didn’t have my clothes on when I was a ferret. What if someone saw me?” his voice was timid, still frightened of the thought.

            It clicked then: his genitals were abnormal, even in ferret form. I was rock hard again. “But your clothes were covering you when McGonagall put you back to normal.”

            He nodded. “She knows. All head teachers know, but not Moody. My father tried to have him fired, but firing him would require making my condition public knowledge, so he didn’t go through with it.” He looked at the tub then, which was now in danger of overflowing. He spelled off the tap and said, “Let’s have a listen, shall we?”

            I nodded and we both moved towards the tub. I dunked my head under and opened the egg. Malfoy dunked his head under too. This time, the egg sang.

           

 

_Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching ponder this;_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour, the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back._

 

            Hair dripping wet, I came to the surface. Malfoy did the same. He looked _so_ incredibly hot with the water dripping from his hair, down his face, over those pale eyelashes and perfect lips.

            “Merpeople. The second task is Merpeople,” Malfoy said.

            “Merpeople! How do I prepare for Merpeople?” I asked frantically.

            He shrugged. “Grow gills, transfigure yourself into a fish, learn to breathe underwater…good luck with that. Good thing I already put my money on Cedrick.” He smirked.

            “Shove off,” I said, closing the egg. I’d get Hermione and Ron to help me.

            “That’s how you treat me, when I solved the riddle of your egg for you? You should be thanking me. I think I deserve a reward,” he said smugly.

            “Yeah, and what sort of reward do you have in mind?” I asked sarcastically, about to tell him to shove it again.

            “A kiss.”

            I gasped. “You said no sex.”

            “No one ever said no kissing. Just a peck on the lips, so I know you’re worth all the dance lessons.”

            I smiled and moved towards him. He reached out, grabbing the back of my head and pulled me closer. Then, with both of our heads still dripping wet, he leaned in and planted a kiss on my lips. No tongue, just soft, firm, plump lips. I practically came in my pants and it only lasted a few seconds.

            A large part of me wanted to grab him and pull him into another kiss, knowing that I’d probably cream my pants. But the part of me that didn’t want to do such an embarrassing thing in front of Malfoy stopped me.

            “Come on, it’s lunch time and I’m hungry. Go put your egg back. We’ll meet back in the classroom after lunch and resume our lessons. Think you’re ready for the next song?”

            I nodded. This time when I went to my dorm, I _did_ stop to wank, knowing that it was the only way to keep from embarrassing myself if we were going to be spending the afternoon dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dance will be next. Please Review!


	7. Chapter 7

            By the time the Yule Ball rolled around, I had spent a good six hours per day, seven days a week practicing with Draco. I was now a passible dancer, at least with regards to the exact songs on tonight’s playlist, and we’d gotten to know each other better. For example, we were on a first name basis now. He was still sarcastic and snarky, but he was my snarky sarcastic boyfriend.

            I made it through the first four songs without embarrassing myself. The contract I’d signed only required four songs, so we took a break for punch and sweets.

            “So, what do you want to do now?” Draco asked after my third treacle tart and his sixth dessert. “More dancing, go for our walk, spread rumors that the reason Weasley looks so miserable with his date is that he’s gay too?”

            I looked over at Ron, who was sitting next to Pavarti. They’d ended up together because they were the only two in Gryffindor in our year without dates. Ron had seemed happy about it earlier, but as soon as Hermione had taken Krum’s arm, Ron had turned into a scowling lump and gone to sit and sulk.

            “Eww. I hope not,” I replied. I was not attracted in the least to Ron. That would be so gross if he turned out to be attracted to me. “Besides, I think he has a thing for Hermione.”

            “You aren’t getting the point, Harry. Spreading rumors isn’t fun if they’re true,” he said with a smirk.

            I chuckled. Before I would’ve been angry with him for saying something like this, but now it was just Draco being Draco.

            The song switched and I recognized it as one of the ones with fun dance moves. “Come on, let’s dance,” I said, a surreal feeling running through me, because I couldn’t believe I was the one saying it.

            He took my hand and led me back out onto the dance floor. We had a blast and when that song ended, we kept right on dancing. As the night wore on, the music shifted to slower, more romantic songs as most of students left the dance floor. Draco and I hadn’t practiced this type but once, because it was easy and the contract didn’t require me to stay on the dance floor this long. But now he pulled me in close, swaying his body against mine, and it felt so incredibly good that I didn’t want to stop. Besides, the moves were simple enough.

            Every shift of Draco’s hips pressed against Little Harry. I’d been erect for hours, since before the first dance, and the stimulation was now at the point where I wasn’t thinking; I just craved release. One slow dance turned into another and then another and still he held me close and ground his body into mine, sending tingles up my spine as I got closer and closer.

            Several things happened in quick secession. First, my leg cramped, because this was longer than we’d ever danced in one session during our practices. Then Draco swiveled his hips, pressing into me, and at the same time he leaned down and kissed me. Warm, sensual lips pressed against mine, slick tongue dating into my mouth. And then it happened: I creamed my pants.

            Draco held me as it happened, but went still. When it was over, he pulled back and looked at me. His eyes went wide as he took in the wet spot at crotch level on my dress robes.

            “Did you just?” he asked, a mixture of shock and horror on his face.

            “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” I answered, reaching out to hold him, so that he wouldn’t run away from me.

            “Let’s go for that walk now,” he said, pulling away.

            I kept hold of him, his elbow linked with mine, as we put on our heavy winter cloaks and went outside in the snow, to the garden.

            I found a nice spot to sit, but Draco found a green beetle on a nearby leaf objectionable. He sent the thing flying across the snow to the other side of the grounds, before sitting next to me.

            “Are you okay?” I asked. He was being unusually silent since the incident.

            “Um…I’m not sure…I don’t understand what just happened. Everyone keeps telling me boys are perverts, but I didn’t see you doing anything. We were just dancing,” he said.

            “I’m sorry,” I apologized again.

            “How did you do it? Were you touching yourself in front of all those people?” he asked, eyes wide and accusing.

            “No! No, I didn’t touch anything. It just happened,” I replied.

            “How can it just happen, Harry?”

            “It just does sometimes. Especially when I’m looking at you, because you’re so hot. It never happens to you?” I asked.

            “No. I can’t do that at all.”

            “Oh…” I paused, thinking about it. “Can you…I heard girls can…feel good…too.” I shrugged.

            “I don’t know. I don’t know how it’s supposed to work with girls. Sometimes it feels tingly…in a good way…but my parents told me it’s wrong to touch myself.” He shrugged, indicating that he’d listened.

            “We’re only fourteen. We’ll figure it out when we’re older,” I reasoned. Lots of girls were told it was dirty to masturbate, so I figured his parents were just treating him like a girl.

            He nodded.

            We were silent for a moment, but then we heard someone coming and I instinctively ducked further into the bushes, pulling him with me.

            It was Hagrid and Madame Maxime. Draco looked at me and made a gagging motion as the two giants kissed. It was gross, so I nodded, in full agreement with him. It was such a private moment, that I didn’t want to interrupt it. We stayed hidden, watching and listening. It was then that Hagrid revealed he was a half giant and Maxime got so offended at the implication that she was one too that she stormed off.

            Hagrid left and Draco and I came out of the rosebushes.

            “He’s a filthy half-breed? I knew he was an oaf and a horrible teacher, but this is even worse!” Draco exclaimed rudely.

            “He’s my friend and there’s nothing wrong with half-breeds,” I retorted, angry. He could be a real arse sometimes.

            Draco reached down and picked up a green beetle, the same one from before. “Back already?” he asked the insect. Then he turned to me. “There absolutely will be something wrong with it, when this bug here transforms back into a reporter and writes all about it. Here, he’s your friend. You deal with the reporter.”

            He shoved the beetle towards me. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I didn’t move to grab it. “What?” I asked as the thing flew away.

            “Now look what you did? And I thought you _liked_ the oaf,” he said.

            “What are you talking about, Draco? It was just a bug.”

            “It was Skeeter. Father told me. ‘Watch what you say around green beetles, because Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus.' Don’t tell anyone I told you that; Father will lose his contact at the paper if it gets out.”

            “That was Rita Skeeter!?!” I exclaimed, finally catching on.

            “Why do you think I didn’t want to talk to you about your problem with her around?” he asked rhetorically.

            I shrugged.

            “It’s late. I’m cold. Walk me to the dungeons,” he requested.

            I complied, silent in thought all the way. Skeeter had ruined the mood. Or really Hagrid’s revelation, Draco’s reaction, and Skeeter’s presence had ruined the mood, but I didn’t blame Hagrid, I forgot about Draco, and blamed Skeeter. If it wasn’t for her, I probably would’ve tried to make out with him, despite the late hour. As it was, we exchanged only a short kiss on the lips.


	8. Chapter 8

            Draco was right, because the next morning’s Prophet contained an article about Hagrid being a half-giant. Hagrid didn’t react well. By the time the first Care of Magical Creatures class of the new term rolled around, he’d secluded himself in his hut and wouldn’t come out. Hermione, Ron, and I had gone to try to talk to him, but it hadn’t helped.

            We were stuck with Grubbly-Plank for a substitute and the really annoying part was that everyone thought she was doing a better job of it than Hagrid. She brought unicorns to our first lessons.

            “Unicorns, can you believe it? How pretentious,” I grumbled to the boys around me.       Unicorns, according to Grubbly-Plank, didn’t like boys, so we had to stand back.

            “I don’t think it’s fair that I can’t pet the unicorns, just because you lot are a bunch of perves. I’m shoving off; you lot and your dirty thoughts don’t follow me,” Draco said.

            The other boys jeered about being called perves and being accused of having dirty thoughts, but then someone put in that the dirty thoughts they were having were towards unicorns, making it abundantly clear that Draco was right that boys were perverts.

            Draco, meanwhile, made his way slowly and steadily away from us. He didn’t go straight towards the unicorns, but he did move closer. Finally, he settled about twenty feet away, on the Forbidden Forest side of the gathering. He sat down, crossed legged, and closed his eyes, probably trying to concentrate on how clean his thoughts were. Neither the unicorns nor the girls noticed at first.

            But after a few minutes, the unicorn foal left its mother, making a beeline towards Draco. It ran right up to him and licked him in the face and he laughed, merriment on his face. He really wasn’t like the boys.

            “Mr. Malfoy, I thought I told you to stay back. Unicorns don’t typically like boys,” Grubbly-Plank said annoyingly.

            “They don’t like those boys. I’m not like them. My brain isn’t located between my legs. Obviously this little foal can sense that,” Draco replied smugly.

            “This is highly irregular, Mr. Malfoy, but please lead the foal back over here to the group. We don’t want to separate it from its mother,” Grubbly-Plank said.

            Draco did as told and joined the group of girls with the foal.

            The boys jeered and made rude comments about Draco being a sissy and a ponce.

            I soon got fed up with them and exclaimed, “You’re just jealous, because he’s right! If you clear thoughts of your penis from your mind for ten minutes I bet the unicorns would let you pet them too!”

            “Then why aren’t you over there with your poncy boyfriend?” Blaise asked snidely.

            “Because I can’t clear thoughts of _his_ penis from my mind for ten minutes. Especially not when he’s right there,” I replied. At this point, I didn’t know if he had a penis or not, but I knew he wanted people to think he was a normal boy, despite the rumors.

            All the boys laughed.

            When class was over, Draco joined me on the walk back to the castle.

            I waited until there was a good enough distance between us and the other students to speak. “Do you think…that’s why the unicorns like you?” I left the sensitive part left unsaid, leaving it for him to fill in.

            “Yes. Grubbly-Plank doesn’t know of course. The school wouldn’t tell something like that to a substitute. Just the Headmaster, the school nurse, and the heads of houses know,” he answered.

            I nodded.

            “Are we on for the library again this evening?” he asked.

            Draco had been helping Hermione research how to breathe under water. Our initial find had been the Bubble-Head charm, but I had yet to master it and time was running out. Draco and Hermione were still hopeful that there was another way and got together regularly to look in the library. Meanwhile Ron, Fred, George, and I would go to the nearest classroom and try to get the Bubble-Head charm to work.

            “Yes, I believe so. But you know, you could always speak to Hermione yourself,” I replied.

            “No, she’s mean to me. I’ll go through you,” he insisted.

            It was disappointing that he still thought Hermione mean. They were cordial enough to research together, but she often told me she was only doing it for my sake and she still held a grudge against him for all of those years of mistreating her. I couldn’t blame her, not really. And I couldn’t blame Draco either.

            He continued, “But anyway, could you ask Longbottom to come? I heard Moody gave him a book.”

            “Sure, but why?” I asked.

            “Because Moody’s the one who put your name in the Goblet, so he’s probably trying to make sure you win. Only he doesn’t know that giving a book to Longbottom doesn’t mean you’ll ever see it.”

            “Why would Moody put my name in the Goblet of Fire?” I asked, again.

            “Maybe he’s trying to groom you to take over the world. Why does it matter what he’s up to? I just know he’s the one up to it,” Draco insisted.

            “I’ll ask Neville to come, but you have to be nice to him.”

            “I’m nice to everyone. But if you’d like, I’ll offer him one of my handmade badges,” he kidded.

            I smiled and squeezed his hand. The problem was that his idea of nice didn’t mesh with most other people’s definition of the word.

            By then we were back at the castle and had to split up.

 

* * *

 

 

            During dinner, I did as Draco had asked and asked Neville to meet Draco and Hermione in the library with the book Moody gave him. Neville agreed, but was clearly nervous at the idea of meeting with Draco. Draco had been nicer as of late and I couldn’t remember the last time he’d insulted Neville, but he’d been a right arse for our first three years of school.

            That night, in an effort to smooth things along between Neville and Draco, I went with them and Hermione to the library, forgoing my usual fruitless endeavors with the Bubble-Head charm.

            Neville produced the book and Draco and Hermione sat shoulder to shoulder as they went through it together.

            Within the hour, Draco exclaimed, “Ah-ha! I told you it was Moody!”

            Madam Pince kicked us all out of the library for that. No matter, because we took the gathering to the classroom I usually used for Bubble-Head charm practice.

            “The question is, how do we get Gillyweed?” Hermione asked, pointing to the section on Gillyweed in Neville’s book.

            Apparently Gillyweed was the solution we’d been looking for all along.

            “I’ll ask Snape to order some. It’s expensive though. I don’t know how much. I could lend you some of my allowance, but my parents aren’t going to approve of me spending money on something like that for you, Harry,” Draco answered.

            “Don’t worry about it. I can pay,” I replied.

            “It might be a lot. Like _really_ expensive,” Draco countered.

            “If I can’t afford it, I’ll ask my godfather. He bought me my Firebolt,” I said.

            I hadn’t told Draco how much money my parents had left me. I told him there was some money and I’d be all right, but he assumed it wasn’t much, because I dressed in rags. He’d even given me clothes for Christmas, including socks, because he thought I should have a few nice things.

            Draco nodded, but left it unsaid that he thought my godfather was an arse. I’d explained that Sirius was innocent and had gone after Pettigrew for revenge, but Pettigrew had gotten away and staged it to look like he was dead. Draco had countered that as my godfather, Sirius’ first duty was to take care of me and leave the revenge for someone else. He disapproved of Sirius putting his desire for revenge over my welfare.

            “That just leaves one thing,” Hermione said.

            “What?” I asked.

            “Telling Dumbledore that Moody is behind it all,” Hermione answered, locking eyes with Draco. She clearly now believed him.

            “Wait a minute, you guys. Moody may have given Neville the book, but what does that prove? Even if he knew there was a section on Gillyweed in there,” I started. They both gave me incredulous looks. “Okay, so he probably knew. But even then, he might just have been trying to cheat! Just because he’s a cheat, doesn’t mean he put my name in the Goblet.”

            “I want him fired,” Draco insisted, still upset about the ferret thing.

            “His methods are unconventional,” Hermione hedged.

            “He gives me the creeps,” Neville admitted shyly. Until now, he’d stayed at the edge of the gathering, letting the others talk.

            “He taught me how to throw off the Imperius Curse. That has to count for something,” I said.

            “We take this to Dumbledore and let him decide,” Hermione concluded.

            So that is what we did.

            First, Draco and I went to see Snape about ordering Gillyweed. Snape placed the order and had the money taken out of my account, promising that if it wasn’t here on time, he’d lend me his. And since he was being nice, he used a particularly scathing tone to hide it.

            Then Draco, Hermione, Neville, and I went to see Dumbledore about our suspicions regarding Moody. Dumbledore assured us that Moody was the most trustworthy Auror that ever was, but that he’d keep an extra close eye on the professor just the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever think Harry’s life would be so much easier, if he knew what Draco knew? Now he does. Please Review!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains graphic scenes of a sexual nature between minors. If you do not wish to read the graphic version, I posted a censored version on the fanfiction website.

            For the second task, the Merpeople chose to take Draco from me. It turned out fine, because my order of Gillyweed came through. I saved him and Fleur’s sister, and tried to save Hermione and Cho Chang too, which cost me time, and all because I believed the song that said the people would die if left. I ended up getting points for moral fiber though, which meant I was tied for first place.

            Afterwards there was a party. After the party, Draco and I snuck off to be alone in an abandoned classroom.

            He was on me the moment the door was shut, pressing me up against the wall and snogging me senseless. He was a brilliant kisser, hot and demanding. My entire existence shrunk down to the tingling feeling of my lips molded against his, his tongue darting into my mouth, and my cock throbbing in my pants.

            Then I felt his hands at the waistband of my old jeans. Having once been Dudley’s, they were too big for me and held up by a belt. I turned my head in order to break the contact between our mouths, catching my breath and looking down to see his long slender fingers fumbling to undo my belt.        

            “What are you doing?” I gasped out.

            “Thanking you for saving me,” he answered, making progress with my belt.

            “What about the contract? We’re not sixteen yet,” I protested weakly.

            “That was for our first date. Besides, that was just to please my parents. My parents aren’t here, are they, Harry?”

            “No,” I answered, mesmerized by the sight of my belt finally coming free.

            “Do you mind if I touch you?” he asked, dipping the tips of his fingers into my waistband.

            “No, go ahead. Be my guest,” I said eagerly. If he wanted to touch me, I was more than willing.

            He pulled up my shirt and I helped him take it off. Then he made deft work of my trouser button.

            I reached for him, pulling up his shirt. But he didn’t help me. Instead, he pulled away, pushing my hands off his body. “No, don’t!” he protested.

            “Why not? You took mine off!” I countered, holding my jeans up now that we weren’t getting totally naked.

            “Because,” he said.

            “Because why?” I pressed.

            “Because I want to see you and I don’t want you to see me,” he answered, arms defensively over his clothed chest.

            “Well that’s not fair,” I protested. “If you get to see me, I should get to see you.”

            “Fine, if you don’t want me to touch you, then I won’t,” he replied.

            “I do want it, Draco.”

            “Well I want to touch you and I don’t want to be touched, so you can take it or leave it,” he insisted.

            “Why not?”

            He shrugged. “I just don’t.”

            “You’re not ready?” I asked, hoping this was it, because otherwise, I didn’t get it. I was past thinking him liking me was a cruel prank with the gotcha coming just around the corner. I knew it wasn’t like that.

            He nodded.

            I smiled then, understanding. We were only fourteen. “Okay. If you’re not ready, that’s fine. I’m not going to push you. We can wait,” I said, grabbing my belt and preparing to refasten it.

            “I’m ready to see you. Can’t you just show me first?” he asked.

            “You are ready to see me, but not ready to show me?” I asked to make sure, my brow furrowing as I tried to puzzle him out.

            “Yes.” He looked at me with pleading eyes, silently begging for me to understand.

            “Is this because you’re different? You’re scared that I won’t like you?” I asked.

            He nodded.

            “Oh Draco! You don’t need to worry about that! I love you just the way you are,” I said engulfing him in a hug.

            He hugged me back for a long time. When he pulled away, he asked, “So can I take your clothes off and leave mine on?”

            “For now. Until you’re ready. Eventually you have to get naked too,” I answered.

            He nodded and I let my hold go. My jeans being several sizes too big, fell down my narrow hips, leaving me in just my pants. He moved his hand to cup me through the thin cloth of my pants. I gasped and then leaned in to recapture his lips.

            After a time, oxygen grew in short supply and I had to break away to gasp for breath. He gasped too, but did so while pulling at the slit in the front of my pants.

            “Pull it out. I want to see,” he said in between deep lungfuls of air.

            It probably would’ve been better to pull my pants down, but he was still fully clothed, which made me somewhat shy about stripping. So, I went along with his efforts and tugged my cock out through the opening in the front of my pants.

            “It’s so big!” he exclaimed, eyes wide, pupils blown.

            I shrugged.

            “Is this how big they’re supposed to be?” he asked in a smaller voice. I got the impression that he was ashamed his wasn’t as big.

            “I think most are smaller. I have a thing for small ones. Big ones don’t really excite me like the little ones do.” It was true and I didn’t want him to feel bad. If he knew how hot I found him, he would love his body as much as I did.

            “Is that where your pee comes out?” he asked, motioning towards the tip.

            “Yes. You’ve never seen one before?” I asked curiously. I knew what he had in his pants was different from what I had in my pants, but he’d spent three years in a boy’s dorm; surely he’d seen a penis before.

            “Not up close. I use the bathroom with stalls if I’m not using one of the loos for prefects; I don’t get to be a urinal perv.” The boy’s dorm in Gryffindor had stalls with toilets, stalls with showers, and a separate room for the urinal. From the sound of it, I figured Slytherin had the same arrangement. We weren’t old enough to be prefects yet, but he probably got special permission to use the prefect’s bathrooms, so that he didn’t have to go into either the girl’s bathroom or the boys, when he was in the rest of the castle. “Snape said he’d give me detention for a year if he catches me in a bathroom with a urinal. Besides,” he shrugged, “At the start of every year, Snape gives all the boys in Slytherin a lecture about privacy and not letting other people see their stuff. He said that the next report he gets of someone whipping it out for show, they’re expelled.”

            “Oh…” I trailed off, trying not to think of Snape. Snape was _so_ not my type.

            “Can…I, um, touch it?” he asked, catching my eye.

            “Yes! Oh, please, yes!” I exclaimed, twitching at the thought alone.

            He reached out hesitantly and took hold of me. His hand felt so incredible on my shaft that I almost came right then and there. I held back though and was rewarded by the feel of his hand exploring my flesh. He used both hands and traced around every bit of it.

            “What am I supposed to do with it?” he asked, looking like he was tired of feeling me up, but still wanted to get the prize inside the box.

            “Stroke it.”

            “How?”

            “Like this,” I said and pushed his fingers away to give myself one good firm stroke.

            I let myself go and he took hold of me once more. Then he stroked me and it felt like my cock was on fire! His technique wasn’t that great, to be honest, but it was him and I had no control over my bits. It was an amazing rush. By the third stroke, I was cumming in his hands.

            He screamed and pushed me away.

            “What are you doing!?!” he yelled, more surprised than angry, as if he hadn’t expected that in the least.

            “Sorry!” I apologized.

            “What is this stuff?” he asked, holding his sperm covered fingers up to get a closer look.

            “I’m _sooo_ sorry, Draco. I should’ve given you a warning,” I apologized again.

            “This is your…?” he left the word unsaid.

            “Yes and I didn’t mean to get it all over you. It’s just that you are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I think you might be the sexiest person on the planet,” I admitted.

            I wiped the white glob off his hand, rubbing it away on my discarded shirt. I did the same with the rest of it, until there was no visible sign, although I could feel the residue on my hands.

            “I feel dirty,” he admitted.

            “No, no, don’t say that.” I kissed him. “You were wonderful. You made me feel that way.”

            “I did?”

            “Yes. I came for you. You do this to me,” I said, kissing him again.

            He blushed.

            “One day, I’m going to do it to you too, if you’ll let me,” I added.

            He didn’t reply. He just nestled his head into the crook of my neck. I held him like that.

            “I’m proud of you, for saving us all today. You’re a bit daft—of course they weren’t going to let us die; my father would’ve never allowed that—but you still saved me. You saved me with your cloak too. No one’s ever saved me, before you,” he said, breaking the silence.

            “And I’ll save you again. Anytime you need saving, I’ll be here,” I promised, hoping I could keep that promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Review!


	10. Chapter10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Under-aged smut. If that isn't for you, the censored version is available on fanfiction.

            When Mr. Crouch was murdered, I immediately became suspicious of Moody, because I’d just seen them together and Draco was still convinced Moody was behind my name being put in the Goblet. Dumbledore went to investigate and discovered that Moody was an imposter keeping the real Moody imprisoned inside his trunk. The real Moody was healed and became our new teacher. The fake Moody was taken away by Minister Fudge and given the kiss, before it could be discovered what the plot was.

            Draco didn’t want the tournament to continue. He was convinced the fake Moody had something horrid planned for the end. The imposter was gone now, but whoever put him up to it was still out there. One man was already dead and there was no telling how many more would be by the time the final task was over.

            The third task was a secret, but due to all of the cheating going on, it got out that the giant thing being constructed on the school lawn was a maze.

            The night before the final task, Draco and I snuck off to be alone. We got wasted off of butterbeers nicked from the kitchens and made out in a transfigured bed.

            “I don’t want you to do it. Why don’t you quit?” he asked me. This wasn’t the first time he’d asked.

            “I have to. The Goblet spitting my name out is a binding magical contract,” I replied, as usual, in between nipping at his jaw. His skin was so smooth.

            “But you didn’t put your name in it. Crouch Jr. did! All you have to do is refuse to participate!” he insisted.

            “What if they won’t let me?” I asked, hands under his shirt, fondling his nipples. He wasn’t completely flat chested. I didn’t know if he was getting full out boobs like a girl, but there was something there and I liked it. Truth be told, loads of cleavage turned me off, but a little bit was hot.

            “Then lose. Throw the game. Let the others win,” he answered, arching up into my touch.

            “What will you give me if I do?” I asked, thumbing his nipples; they were hard little nubs.

            “What do you want?” he asked.

            “To see you naked. To touch you,” I admitted. Then quickly tacked on, “Not sex, just hands,” hoping he wouldn’t freak out.

            The subject of that contract I’d signed hadn’t come up again since after the second task. We’d had more dates, mostly inside the castle, but also in Hogsmeade, and I didn’t sign anything then. We’d made out loads of times and caressed each other, with his clothes on, although mine had come off a few times and he’d given me a few more hand jobs. Occasionally hands went up under his shirt, but never down into his trousers. He was fifteen now, his birthday just having passed, so I felt slightly less guilty about our activities together.

            “And you promise not to do the final task?” he asked.

            “I promise. I’ll refuse to enter and lose on purpose,” I confirmed.

            He nodded, but didn’t move to undress and looked nervous.

            “What’s wrong?” I asked.

            “I’m not much of a boy,” he answered, looking away.

            I turned his chin to face me, looked into his eyes, and said, “I know. You’re better than.”

            “I’m not a girl either,” he insisted.

            “Better still. Whatever you are, is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and I haven’t even seen it all yet,” I said, putting my heart into this, so he’d know I wasn’t going to freak out on him or make fun of him or something.

            “You can’t tell anyone,” he said.

            “I won’t.”

            “I don’t want anyone knowing. No one’s seen it. If it gets out, I’ll know it was you and kill you myself.”

            “I won’t tell, Draco. I wouldn’t do that. I’m not going to share you. What you have between your legs is for me to know and that’s it,” I insisted.

            I’d done a poor job keeping his first secret, about the period, having told Ron and Hermione. My only saving grace on that point was that neither Ron nor Hermione had told anyone, despite the rumors Crabbe and Goyle had started on Health Education day. But I was determined to do a better job keeping this secret. I’d already stopped myself on multiple occasions from talking to the guys about my sexual experiences with Draco so far, even though I desperately wanted someone to gossip to. From groping his cloth covered crotch, I’d discovered that there was something down there that responded to my touch, growing hard, but it wasn’t very big. I hadn’t told anyone about it.

            He nodded and started pulling his clothes off. I pulled mine off too. Then we were naked, his body bared before me. He was beautiful, smooth skin and long limbs. My eyes went first to his breasts, just the merest hint of skin puckering out, and his pink nipples. Then my gaze fell to his blond bush. It was still thick and untrimmed, but there was something poking out. It was small and I couldn’t be sure which one it was, but I knew immediately it was hot.

            I leaned in to kiss him and he pulled me close, pressing his body up against mine. I could feel his arousal poking into my belly, his lips on my lips, and my cock nestled against his thigh. After a few minutes of kissing, I was so incredibly turned on that I ejaculated untouched.

            He pushed me away.

            “Again?” he asked exasperated. I did this a lot.

            “Sorry!” I apologized.

            I wiped the white glob off of his hand, rubbing it away on my discarded robes. I did the same with the rest of it, until there was no visible sign, although I could feel the residue on my hands.

            “Here, let me make you feel good. It’s your turn to feel good this time,” I said, closing the space between us and reaching for his crotch.

            He spread his legs, inviting me in.

            I felt for the clit/penis, but it’d gone soft and was no longer prominent. When digging through his bush though, I came across a slick trail. I followed it down to his vagina and slipped a finger in the tight hole. It was so warm and wet that I got hard again, even though I’d just cum. I couldn’t believe how small it was, barely big enough for my one finger.

            He threw his head back, his eyes rolling into his head, and moaned.

            I started thrusting in and out with my finger. My eye caught sight of movement in the bush as something began to fill with blood again. I grabbed hold of it with my other hand to get a better look. Its shape was more like a penis, than a clit. It was short, but fat. The head had no opening, but was mushroomed shaped.

            “Where does the pee come out?” I asked, fondling him.

            “Underneath. The hole is at the base,” he answered, gripping the sheets.

            I extracted my finger from his pussy and let go of his micropenis to part the bush in search of another hole. Sure enough, there was a tiny little opening at the base of the micropenis, where it connected with his groin.

            “Is that where it is on girls?” I asked, picturing in my head the image of an urethra directly underneath a clit.

            “No. Mine’s higher up than a girl. Further down than a boy’s. It’s in the middle,” he answered, seeming far less hot and bothered by this development.

            “Does your pee get all over your dick?” I asked curiously.

            “Yes. That’s what toilet paper and cleaning spells are for,” he answered, moving to sit up and cover himself.

            “No, I’m sorry. Enough with the questions. I’ll make you feel good, I promise,” I said, once again reaching for the micropenis with one hand and snaking my index finger down.

            As soon as I reentered him, he collapsed back onto the bed with a moan. I didn’t quite know what I was doing, but I did my best. The Weasley twins had given me some pointers with regards to pleasing a witch and I tried to use them now. With each thrust in, I changed the angle and crook of my finger until I found a spot that had Draco’s toes curling, all the while circling the head of the little penis. And because the most sensitive spot on my penis was on the underside, where the foreskin attached, I tried to give that spot on him a lot of attention. His was different though, because it was so short. A couple of times I missed, dipped too low, and got his urethra and he flinched. I couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain, but worried it was the latter, I tried to avoid doing it again.

            It was taking a really long time. So long that I pulled out intending to switch hands. When I did so, he said, “I don’t squirt out gross white stuff. There’s not really an end, like there is with you.”

            “You’ll know the end when I get there. Trust me,” I insisted. From what he’d said, he’d never had a proper orgasm, but I was going to give him one.

            “How do you know?” he asked. “Have you done this before?”

            “No, but Fred and George told me. They said that if I can’t tell it’s over, I haven’t done it right,” I answered.

            “But they are doing it with girls. I’m not a girl,” he insisted.

            “I know you’re not. You’re better than. Just give me more time,” I countered, pushing my finger in and up into his spot.

            He groaned and threw his head back in submission.

            Egged on by the noises he was making, I started on a rhythm that involved both pushing my finger in and out and pushing up into the spot, as well as wrapping two fingers of my other hand around the micropenis and swirling my thumb around the head. This was more coordination than I’d managed before and judging by the state of pleasure he was in, it was paying off.

            Suddenly he kicked out, squeezed his thighs closed, and his vaginal walls began to spasm. My movement was impeded and my rhythm gone to shit, but I did my best to swirl my thumb and crook my index finger up into his spot. He was gushing out liquid then and I didn’t know where it was coming from. It was clear, not white, and thin; thinner than the slick that had been there before.

            Making him cum was the hottest thing I’d seen in my entire life. I came again, untouched, as I watched, felt, and heard it. Luckily, he was too busy orgasming to notice. I coated a patch of sheet with my spunk and then used my knee to nudge over my robes to cover it.

            “Stop,” he whimpered, pushing my hands away.

            I stopped. “Was that obvious enough?” I asked.

            He didn’t answer for a minute, too busy panting for breath. “Yes. Come here,” he said, reaching for me and pulling me into him for a kiss.

            We made out then, slowly and sensually, his fluid all over me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the calm before the storm that will start next chapter. Please Review!


	11. Chapter11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The following chapter contains an under-aged sex-scene. If you wish to read the censored version, you can find it on fanfiction.

            When the final task began, I entered the maze and immediately shot up red sparks from my wand, giving up. I failed. Fleur made it through first, grabbed the cup, and nothing much happened, except for the cheer and roar of the crowd as we had our victor. Krum was right behind her and touched it only seconds later, so of course there was a fight between Karkaroff and Maxime about who really won. Fleur had the worst score going in, so if it was a tie, Krum’s higher initial score should break it.

            I didn’t pay much attention to that. I’d taken my seat next to Draco before Fleur was even in the maze. So when Lucius Malfoy showed up to escort Draco away, I followed.

            “What’s going on, Father?” Draco asked as Lucius ushered us into an abandoned classroom and warded it with spells stronger than anything I’d ever seen.

            Lucius answered by pulling up his sleeve to show his dark mark: dark, enflamed, and fully back. I’d overheard a secret conversation between Karkaroff and Snape about their marks, so I knew they were coming back. I’d also asked about it and was told it was a sign of Voldemort growing stronger.

            “We need to go into hiding. Everyone knows you are dating Potter. The Dark Lord is coming back and he will be after me, for deserting him, and you, Draco, for fraternizing with the enemy. Our whole family is at risk. I’ve turned one of our properties into a safe house. I require you to go with me, no arguments,” he said.

            “I need time to pack. And time to say farewell,” Draco answered, eyeing me.

            “Make it quick,” Lucius replied.

            Lucius released the locking spells and the three of us made our way down to the dungeons. Snape intercepted Lucius there and directed the wizard into his office to talk. Draco and I continued on, to Slytherin.

            Draco led me into his dorm room. It was a single room, with only one bed, but larger than the room I shared with four other boys in Gryffindor Tower. It even had an attached loo. The accommodations were clearly the best part about Draco’s condition. I wondered then if Gryffindor had an unused dormitory just waiting for a Fairy. But I couldn’t dwell on it, because Draco was leaving and he needed me.

            Draco pulled out his trunk and then stood frozen in front of his wardrobe, the weight of the situation coming down on him.

            I came up behind Draco and wrapped my arms around him. “It’ll be okay,” I said softly into his ear.

            “He’s going to kill you. He’s going to come back and finish the job he started when you were a baby. How is that going to be okay?” he asked, turning around in my arms.

            I could see that his eyes were shining with unshed tears. I brushed his hair out of his eyes and then one of those tears fell. I pulled him in tighter, into my body, and felt sobs wrack his chest.

            “Tell me what I can do to make this better? How can I make it okay? You’re going to a safe house with your parents. That should keep you safe. You’ll be okay,” I said.

            “You won’t be.” His voice was broken with emotion.

            “I have the protection of my mother’s blood. That has kept me safe all these years and it will continue keeping me safe until I come of age. I’ll be fine,” I promised, remembering how Voldemort hadn’t even been able to touch me first year.

            “I want you to make love to me. We might never see each other again. I love you. I want to show you how much, before you die, Harry.”

            “I’m not going to die, Draco, I promise. But if you want to make love before you go into hiding, and you’re sure about this, then we better do it before you father comes back.” I was thinking with my little head by then and couldn’t come up with a single reason why this might be a bad idea.             
            “I’m sure. Strip,” he ordered.

            I did as told and he stripped too. Then he was kissing me so forcefully that I kept having to take a step back to maintain my balance. He must’ve been doing it on purpose, because soon my knees hit the back of his bed. He kept right on pushing me down, until I was flat on my back and scrambling to get further onto the mattress, so that my legs wouldn’t dangle so uncomfortably. As soon as I managed to scoot back, he climbed on top of me and straddled me.

            He grabbed hold of my cock and tried to direct it to his opening, but it slipped away. After a few more tries, it was clear that his opening was too small. He looked like he was about to cry again, but I’d anticipated this problem. From the book I’d read on his condition, I’d learned that it was common for Fairies to have smaller than usual vaginas. And from our previous fooling around last night, I’d learned that this was the case with him. So being the perverted teenaged boy that I was, I shoved the book in my backpack this morning when I left for the third task, meaning to look in the spell section for the appropriate bit of magic.

            I pulled the book out now and flipped straight to the spells, hoping that Draco didn’t see what the book was about and get mad. Luck was on my side, because the book opened to exactly the right page.

            “What’s that?” Draco asked, leaning over my shoulder to see the book as I read.

            “A sex spell,” I explained, scooting over so that he could read it.

            I felt a rush of relief when I finished reading the section, because the brief description failed to mention anything at all about why a spell for enlarging a vagina might be needed. Nothing about Fairies; just small vaginas.

            A second later, Draco agreed to let me cast it on him. I practiced the wand movement a few times and then did it.

            This time when he lowered himself onto me, my cock was shoved into an incredible tight hole. It was so tight I almost came. But I held back and spent our entire first time together focusing on not blowing my rocks too quickly.

            Draco did the work, slowly raising and lowering a few times, before deciding he didn’t like that and starting a back and forth movement that my penis thought was brilliant. Mindful that I wasn’t going to last, I reached one hand out to his micropenis to stroke and the other to his nipple to rub. He threw his head back in pleasure, arching his back. I kept up what I was doing, but he was so distracted by how I made him feel that he stopped moving.

            When he started moaning my name, I grabbed his hips and ground him down onto my cock, bucking up into him.

            “Harry! So big…” he groaned, in pleasure.

            “Get your penis for me,” I directed, now that my hands were on his hips and I didn’t have a spare one to rub him.

            He did, taking his micropenis and stroking it the way I’d taught him.

            The noises he made were so hot that it was all I could do not to cum. I begged, “Come on, Draco, get it, Love. I’m not going to last. I need you to cum on my big penis for me.”

            “It’s sooooo big!” he squealed in delight.

            “What does it feel like, Love?” I asked.

            Draco’s free hand, the one not on his micropenis, went to his belly, caressing it. “I can feel you all the way up here. It feels so full, like I ate a feast. But then it feels tingly down there too…” He moaned.

            “Come down here and kiss me,” I directed.

            He did, laying his chest on mine. Our lips joined and I slowly ground up into him, holding his hips tight to my body, to keep my cock all the way inside.

            Then he squirmed and moaned and I took that as a good sign. He started panting for breath and I had to pull my mouth away from his to let him breathe, so I lowered my mouth to his neck and sucked. He rose into a sitting position and bucked his hips back and forth, but I kept hold of his hips and wouldn’t let him mess up my rhythm. I ground up into that spot of his and I couldn’t hold back another second. I probably was only able to hold back as long as I did, because I’d cum twice last night. But now I couldn’t hold off any longer and let the most wonderful orgasm I’ve ever had wash over me.

            When I finished, he was still hard on top of me, my soft penis still inside him. I grabbed his micropenis with one hand. My penis came out of him and my finger went in a soggy wet hole that was looser than usual. Then I flipped him over, so that he was on his back and I was in between his knees. It didn’t take him long to start screaming in ecstasy. The noises he made were beautiful, exquisite even, as he came. There wasn’t quite so much fluid as last time, but there was still fluid and there was a definite clenching around my finger as I crooked it into his spot.

            We lay there and cuddled when it was over. It was a glance at the clock and a realization of how late it was that had us moving, getting up and dressed and spelling away the mess. Draco was supposed to be packing and his father or Snape might walk in on us at any moment. We threw his things into his trunk as fast as we possibly could, summoning his possessions from all over the room.

            Snape and Lucius both came in, when we mostly had everything, but couldn’t possibly shut the trunk, because he hadn’t packed it neatly.

            “Draco, I’ve made an important decision,” Lucius began.

            “Yes, Father?” Draco asked.

            “I am going to report to the Dark Lord with Snape, after everyone else has left. I am going to become a spy, to protect you. You and your mother will go into hiding without me,” Lucius announced.

            “Father! No, it’s too dangerous! Mother and I need you,” Draco pleaded.

            “I will be more valuable on the outside. I will sacrifice myself, so that you and your mother will live,” Lucius replied.

            “But why?”

            “I don’t want either of you around the Dark Lord. You, because of Potter. Your mother, because the tapestry has been growing again. There is a fruit growing next to yours, Draco, and since it is too soon for a marriage fruit to start growing, we suspect she is pregnant. I don’t want to risk anything happening to this baby. She can’t lose another one,” Lucius said.

            Draco looked torn, unable to decide what to do.

            “The Dark Lord has called his Death Eaters. Karkaroff has fled; didn’t even bother to finish his fight with Madam Maxime about who won. Soon Lucius and I will report late and announce that we have both worked our way into positions to be of aid to him, with regards to capturing you, Mr. Potter. For now, the two of you need to stay in the castle. Narcissa will be traveling here too, to keep her safe. Later, when we return, Lucius will escort his family into hiding, where they will stay without him for the duration of the war. Our Lord is back and he is not a benevolent lord,” Snape said.

            And so it was. Snape and Lucius left. Draco and I pulled everything out of the trunk and set about packing it the right way.

            After a good ten minutes of silence, I asked, “What are you thinking about?” assuming he would be worried about his parents and the possibility that he was getting a brother or a sister.

            “Us. What we just did,” he added, cheeks turning red.

            “Do you regret it?” I asked.

            “No, but I feel like everyone who looks at me is going to know,” he admitted.

            “How could they know? Nothing’s changed about you, Draco.”

            “I feel different. I have this fluttery feeling, in here,” he said, hand moving to his lower abdomen, where he’d said he’d felt full before.

            “That’s probably just that spell encouraging your vagina to grow. It’s on the inside. No one can see it. No one will know; trust me,” I said, gripping his hand reassuringly.

            “But what if the fruit growing on our family tree isn’t because of my mother? What if our having sex qualifies as marriage under the old laws and our tree is drawing you, next to me?” he asked, seeming upset by this. “My mother will be so disappointed if she thinks she’s pregnant and she’s not. Do you know how many babies she’s lost?” he asked.

            “No,” I answered.

            “Too many. I was four months early; only magic saved me,” he answered.

            I wrapped an arm around him in support, not knowing what to say. After several minutes, I finally asked, “Could we be considered married, though, under the old laws? We didn’t make love until just now, _after_ your father came. All we did yesterday was fool around.”

            “The tapestry has psychic abilities. It always starts before it happens. If my mother is having a baby, I wouldn’t be surprised if the baby is conceived tonight. Although now that the plans have changed and father isn’t going with us…” he trailed off.

            “The future can change?”

            “It’s changed before. So many fruits have begun to grow next to mine and they have all shriveled up and fallen off the tree,” he revealed.

            I hugged him tighter. “Whatever is happening, we are going to be all right. I’ll be safe under my mother’s protection and you will be safe, with your father watching out for you. When things settle down, you’ll come back to school and we’ll be together again,” I insisted.

            He nodded into my embrace.

            After a few minutes more, he got up and went back to packing and I joined him.

            Soon his mother was there and shepherding us off to Snape’s office to wait. It was late when Lucius and Snape came back; so late, that Draco and I had fallen asleep entwined on the sofa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would prefer for them to be older for the first sex scene, but with Voldemort coming back and Draco going into hiding, it had to be now.  
> Please Review!


	12. Chapter12

            Soon Narcissa was there and shepherding us off to Snape’s office to wait. It was early morning when Lucius and Snape came back. They were gone so long, that Draco and I had fallen asleep entwined on the transfigured sofa.

            I was instantly awake; Draco wasn’t. He stood up and looked like he was going to collapse. Lucius caught him, already standing right in front of him, and lowered him back to the transfigured sofa.

            “Dragon?” Narcissa asked alarmed. As far as I knew, she hadn’t slept a wink, staying up to wait. She looked like it too.

            “Are you alright, my son?” Lucius asked, looking worse than Draco. He’d been up all night and had the look of someone who had been cursed with Cruciatus recently.

            Draco didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hands went to his temples and he began to rub as he sat back down.

            “Draco?” I asked gently from his side.

            “The two of you were up imbibing spirits while we were risking our necks for you,” Snape sneered, going to his potions cabinet.

            “No…we didn’t drink anything,” I protested.

            “The boy speaks the truth. They’ve been with me all night, sleeping,” Narcissa added.

            “Draco, you look a bit green in the gills. Are you getting sick?” Lucius asked, a fatherly hand on Draco’s shoulder.

            “My head feels foggy,” Draco finally said.

            “We should take him to Madam Pomfrey before we go into hiding, Lucius; have her check him out,” Narcissa said.

            “No need. A hangover potion will fix him up. Clearly he and Potter were drinking before you arrived, Cissy,” Snape said, thrusting a potion in front of Draco’s face.

            Draco took it, downed it, and promptly vomited it back up. It happened so quickly that the potion barely touched his tongue, before he was gagging.

            “That’s strange; he’s never had a problem with Sober-Up before,” Narcissa said.

            “No, but you have, Narcissa: when our tapestry bears fruit,” Lucius said, eyes narrowing on Draco, before turning a death glare on me. “What _have_ you done, Potter!?!” the last was a roar.

            “Wh? I don’t. Huh?” I spluttered.

            “Draco, have you had sex?” Narcissa asked concerned.

            Draco nodded and then began to cry, probably still thinking that they could tell. He should have lied.

            “When, Potter!?!” Lucius roared at me again.

            “I don’t see what that has to do with anything!” I shouted back.  
            “Stop yelling, the both of you; you’re upsetting him,” Narcissa scolded.

            Meanwhile, Snape pulled out another pair of potion vials. When Draco took the first one, it did nothing. “Negative. He’s not pregnant,” Snape announced.

            _Whoever thought he was?_ I wondered.

            “That’s not definitive. It doesn’t always work. Give him the Pepper-Up,” Narcissa said to Snape.

            Snape passed Draco the last vial. Draco took that too.

            “Well, how do you feel, Dragon?” Narcissa asked.

            “Better. My head is better, but I’m still very tired,” Draco answered.

            “Draco, this is very important. We think you might be pregnant. When did you and Potter start having sex?” Narcissa asked.

            Lucius glowered.

            “Last night, after Father said he was taking me away. I’m never going to see Harry again. I just wanted one time with him. Don’t be mad at him, Mother, Father,” Draco pleaded, looking first to Narcissa and then to Lucius.

            “Last night is too soon to be pregnant. He is probably just experiencing the after effects of shock after the return of our Lord,” Snape said.

            “Is he really back? Did you see him?” I asked Snape.

            “Yes, Mr. Potter, the Dark Lord has indeed returned. We just got back from reporting the details to the Headmaster. The plan was to kill you and take your blood, which was why your name ended up in the Goblet: he planned on kidnapping you from the final task. But that was ruined when Crouch Junior was discovered, so they went for an easier target instead. Somehow, they got hold of Frank Longbottom. Longbottom’s body was there in the graveyard where the Dark Lord was reborn. I don’t imagine he was in much of a state to put up a fight. Professor McGonagall has already been sent to fetch the Longbottom child. I am sure he will be leaving school today too,” Snape said.

            I felt awful for Neville.

            But I didn’t have time to linger on the Longbottoms and their sorrows now, because Narcissa said, “It would still be better to have everyone checked out before we go into hiding.”

            Lucius agreed and I followed the Malfoy family to the Hospital Wing.

            Draco was given an initial scan and pronounced in perfect health, just a bit hungry. Pomfrey called an elf to bring him something to eat and concluded that Snape’s diagnosis of shock was accurate. The medicine Snape had given him was nothing more than a simple Pepper-Up. While it had no direct counterpart in Muggle medicine, I knew it was one of those potions that could be used to treat any number of problems, from fever to diabetes to depression, because of its universal feeling better properties. The fact that it had made Draco feel better didn’t indicate a diagnosis and was consistent with Snape’s diagnosis of shock.

            With Draco sorted, the nurse moved her attention to the Malfoy parents. Narcissa tested negative for pregnancy and passed Pomfrey’s health scan too. Lucius, however, was told to lay down so that he could have the wounds inflicted by the Dark Lord treated. Narcissa went to his side and started fretting about how Lucius needed to rest off the effects of the Cruciatus.

            While Lucius was arguing about all the things he needed to do in order to rush his family into hiding and start his spying duties, I sat in a hospital bed next to Draco and shared a tray of breakfast with him. He ate ravenously at first and our tray was automatically refilled with more food.

            “Last night, Harry, did you…?” Draco trailed off quietly, a strawberry speared on his fork from his second helping of fresh fruit.

            “Did I what?” I asked in a whisper, not wanting to be overheard.

            “Did you use a contraceptive?” Draco’s blush was a darker red than I’d ever seen before, clearly embarrassed.

            “No…I don’t know any,” I answered.

            Draco let out a sound of frustration and punched me in the shoulder. “That contract said you were to use contraceptives.” Now that I’d done something wrong, the contract was back, it seemed. “You were the one who got to go to the boy class and learn about contraceptives. You _knew_ I wasn’t allowed to learn. I _told_ you I didn’t know any and it would be _your_ responsibility to look one up! What if I really do end up pregnant!?!” he whisper-shouted.

            I wished I knew the fancy silencing spells the older students were always throwing up to hold conversations in private, but I didn’t. Instead I looked to make sure the adults were still fussing over Lucius and then whispered back, “I forgot. But what does it matter? The pregnancy test Snape gave you was negative.”

            Draco glared angrily at me and whisper-yelled, “If I am pregnant, that test could be negative for another month! It was negative on my mother too and clearly our family tapestry thinks it’s one of us.”

            “Surely it’s your mum. We only had sex the once and not until after the tapestry started fruiting,” I reasoned.

            “But the tapestry is psychic! I told you that, Harry!”

            “Okay…um…I’m not sure what you want me to do,” I admitted.

            Draco let out another noise of frustration. He huffed, then regrouped, and finally sighed, before placing his hand over his lower abdomen and saying quietly, “I still feel something here.”

            “You’ve felt that ever since I was inside you. It’s just that spell I did, encouraging you to grow to fit me,” I replied.

            “No, that felt different. I started feeling this _after_ we had sex. That was full. This is…” he trailed off, at a loss for words on how to describe it.

            “It’s what?” I asked softly, taking his hand, now that he wasn’t whisper-yelling at me anymore.

            “Warm, fuzzy, tingly…like magic. It feels like a ball of magic, inside me. But it’s not my magic, Harry.”

            “Um…okay…” I trailed off, not knowing what to make of this.

            “I think I _am_ pregnant, Harry. I think it’s the baby’s magic. That’s why I vomited the Sober-Up potion: it’s not safe for pregnancies. It’s a known side effect that it induces gagging upon hitting the tongue of a pregnant person,” Draco revealed.

            “Oh,” I said, not quite believing it.

            “Come with me, Harry. Come into hiding with us. Please? I don’t want to be pregnant with your baby and all alone,” he pleaded.

            “But we don’t even know if you are pregnant, Draco. We have to wait for that potion to be able to tell. If when school ends, it turns out you are, then I’ll ask Dumbledore if I can stay with you,” I reasoned. I wanted to be with him, but I didn’t trust his parents. And I knew the protection of my mother’s blood required I stay with family, so odds were good that I wouldn’t be allowed to go anyway. But if Draco was pregnant, then that changed things and I would make them let me go.

            “No, we don’t. There are other ways of knowing. That potion detects all established pregnancies, magical or muggle; that’s why it’s used, because otherwise squib pregnancies would go undetected…no, not just squib babies…any baby who doesn’t have an active magical core yet. The core sometimes doesn’t start developing until the age of five; it’s common for magical babies to be born without any magic in them yet. That’s why it’s not common practice to test for the presence of the baby’s magic. But in this case, I can _feel_ magic forming inside me that isn’t my own. Cores can start forming at conception. I think the magic belongs to our baby.” He squeezed my hand and looked into my eyes, urging me to believe him.

            “But we can’t test for that, can we? We have to wait,” I replied.

            “We _can_ test for it, actually,” Draco revealed, before calling out for the school nurse.

            Draco explained that he wanted Pomfrey to perform a test for the presence of a baby’s magic inside him. She argued that it was extremely rare for a magical core to start forming at conception, which is what he was saying was happening. Lucius, from his hospital bed, ordered the nurse to do the test. Narcissa added that since they were going into hiding today, it was something they really did need to know. Expecting a pregnancy herself, she’d already ordered the elves to stock the safe house with the necessities, but it was still important to know.

            Pomfrey gave in, cast the spell, and a misty white aura formed, centered around a bright light shining from Draco’s lower abdomen, right where he’d said he felt the magic.

            Words were said then, but I missed them through the pounding of blood in my ears, the pounding of my heart in my chest, and the gasping of my lungs for oxygen, which all of the air in the room seemed to be devoid of at the moment. Somehow, I understood that the spell results were positive and Draco was pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Review and let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter 13

            Pomfrey forced a Calming Draught down my throat and explained that I’d been hyperventilating.

            I asked to go into hiding with Draco and Narcissa then. Dumbledore himself was called to help sort the matter.

            Once everything was explained to Dumbledore, I asked again, “So can I please go with them? I need to be with Draco and our baby.”

            “Harry, my dear boy, there is much we need to talk about. Voldemort is back and I fear he is still after you. I need to work out what to do; it’s all happening so quickly now. Draco needs to leave immediately; it’s not safe for him anywhere with your child inside him. You, Harry, can be taken to him at the end of term, if that is still what you wish. I just ask that you stay until then, give me a chance to puzzle this out, and explain everything to you fully.

            So, the Malfoys left through the floo and I remained at the school. The Calming Draught I took was so strong that I soon found myself sleeping in the hospital bed Draco had left behind.

            I woke late in the evening and after a dinner in the Hospital Wing, I was permitted to see Dumbledore.

            I ran to the Headmaster’s office and was bouncing on my feet as I explained once again my need to be with Draco and our baby. There were a few weeks left of term, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Draco was pregnant with my child and I needed to be there to protect and support him.

            “Harry, my dear boy, sit down. There is something important I need to share with you,” Dumbledore said.

            I sat.

            It was then that Dumbledore revealed to me the prophecy that sent Voldemort after me in the first place. Neither could live while the other survives. One of us had to kill the other. The world wasn’t safe for Draco and my baby until Voldemort was dead and it was up to me to kill him. I was the only one who could do it. And worse, my presence in the Malfoy safe house would endanger Draco and our baby. I would draw the evil to them. I couldn’t be with them. I had to stay at school until the end of the term, sit my exams, and then return to the Dursleys, because the protection of my mother’s blood was more important now than ever.

            The good news was that none of the students had been harmed in Voldemort’s return, thanks to the early discovery of Crouch Jr.’s plot. Not only was I still alive, but it wasn’t my blood that was used to make Voldemort’s new body. Dumbledore thought that was important. The blood of _any_ enemy could be used, but it would’ve made Voldemort stronger to take my blood and there was even a chance that my blood—my mother’s blood—in Voldemort’s body would completely destroy the ancient magic that protected me, because then my enemy would be of my mother’s blood too. But with Frank Longbottom’s blood running through his veins, there was a good chance that Voldemort wouldn’t even be able to touch me, without suffering the fate of Quirrell.

            It hadn’t gone all to Voldemort’s advantage, but he was back and it was me who had to defeat him. But I wasn’t yet fifteen, still a year away from my OWLs. The tournament this year showed just how unprepared I was compared to the older students. I still had so much to learn before I could even hope to take on the greatest dark wizard of our time. I had to return to school next year and the year after. I had to get my OWLs and my NEWTs and train my arse off to even stand a chance. And if I didn’t, I would be dead and Voldemort would go after Draco and our baby. The baby wouldn’t be allowed to live, if Voldemort ruled the world.

            “But what about Draco? Will he be able to come back to school next year? Can we be together then?” I asked, once my fate had settled in.

            “Harry, Draco is pregnant. He will continue to be so for the next nine or so months. Then he will have a baby. He cannot bring the baby to school. Even if it were safe for him here, even if you defeat Voldemort and make the world safe for him, he cannot come back to school,” Dumbledore answered.

            “But he hasn’t even sat his OWLs! What’s going to happen to him? Are they going to snap his wand, like they did with Hagrid?” I asked alarmed.

            “No, Harry, no one will snap Draco Malfoy’s wand. He is leaving the school due to a medical condition. Unlike Hagrid, he has been accused of no crimes. His parents are free to tutor him in the arts of magic at home. When he turns seventeen, he will be allowed to practice magic, just like anyone else. Maybe, after Voldemort is defeated and the child is older, he will be able to hire a private instructor to take further instruction. It is possible to earn one’s OWLs from home,” Dumbledore said.

            He said a bit more, something about the courting contract I’d signed and that after the war Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy would be able to use it to punish me for impregnating their underage son, but I was done listening. I had too much on my mind already. I needed to be alone to think about it all. In the span on twenty-four hours I’d gone from Triwizard Champion to expecting a baby. I’d ruined Draco’s life by not stopping to think about contraceptives and now he wouldn’t even be able to sit his OWLs.

            I was less concerned about me fighting in a war and going back to the Dursleys for the summer than I was about Draco. As long as I could write him and know that he was okay, then I’d be okay. As long as he and my baby were okay, then it didn’t matter so much what happened to me. Even if I died, that child would be born and go on without me, in the same way I went on without my parents. That was a comforting thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t think of a good context to bring it up in the story, but there is the issue of Lucius’ loyalty. He is still a racist pureblood who would prefer to live in a world with his lord in charge; he just values his son and unborn grandchild more than his ideals. If he was given the chance, would he be tempted to hand Harry over? What do you think?


	14. Chapter 14

            The Dursleys left me alone a lot that summer. Day one, Uncle Vernon picked me up from Kings Cross and the first thing I did was tell him that the murderer who killed my parents was back and that my boyfriend was pregnant. I overheard him and my aunt talking about it that night; wondering whether it was true or if I’d finally gone completely bonkers. It didn’t matter what they believed, as long as they left me alone and let me receive my owls.

            I didn’t get so many owls from my friends. Every time I sent Hedwig off with a scroll for one of them and told her not to come back without a response, what came back was a short note from Ron or Hermione without any real information. But Draco was a different matter.

            While still at Hogwarts, I passed notes to Draco through Professor Snape, because there was less risk of interception that way. I wrote him one letting him know that I couldn’t go into hiding with him, because Dumbledore said I had to stay at the school and that it wasn’t safe for me to join him during the summer either, because Voldemort still wanted me dead and would come after me, wherever I was. I didn’t want to put Draco and the baby in danger with my presence.

            Draco sent me a note back that I was an utter tosser, an arse, and a wanker for not coming with him when he needed me. He also said that we needed to establish code names for owling purposes and that in the future all messages needed to be encrypted with a complicated magical cypher. His code name was Unicorn and mine was Phoenix, after our wand cores. The code to decrypt our cypher was a random string of letters that I was told to memorize and then watch as Snape completely incinerated the parchment they’d been written on. Since the code was entirely random, it would be almost impossible for someone to guess. With no written trace of it, no one would ever be able to find it, as long as I didn’t let anyone inside my mind or break under torture and give it away. I’d rather die than give up Draco and the baby, so the code was safe with me.

            I spent my first weeks of summer vacation reading and rereading the book on the cypher charm, learning how to use it and the principles behind it, that would keep our messages safe.

            Unicorn was the first to send a message, because he already knew how to do it. Unfortunately, it took me a week to decode his message.

 

_Dear Phoenix,_

_I’ve gotten very sick this past week. I blame you for making me miserable. Mother is no help. She says that illness is a good sign and should be allowed to progress unhindered by anything that might make me feel the slightest bit better. I’ve been banned from brewing for the duration of my illness and my mother doesn’t brew, so I can’t even make Pepper Up, which is in short supply here. If you would join me like I asked, then you could brew it for me._

_-Sincerely, Unicorn_

 

            It took me an additional week to encode my message back to him.

 

_Dear Unicorn,_

_I’m sorry that you are ill. I explained to you before why I can’t be with you. I miss you so much._

_I’ve been reading the Prophet every day for news, but there is nothing. Why aren’t they talking about Voldemort’s return? Why aren’t they warning people? Why isn’t anyone doing anything?_

_-Love, Phoenix_

 

            The next letter from Unicorn came a few days later, so soon that I gathered he wrote it before he received mine.

 

_Dear Phoenix,_

_You are an insufferable prat and a git. The_ least _you could do is write me back, after all you have done to me. If this is how it’s going to be, I see no choice but to go along with my parents and their wishes to enforce the contract to the strictest degree. Come the end of the war, you can expect to see a lawsuit from my family. If both you and my father survive, he will be asking for jail time for you on the grounds of statutory rape, because I was only fifteen and the law says you have to be sixteen._

_-Sincerely Unicorn_

 

            I wrote back right away this time, now that I had semi-mastered the cypher.

 

_Dear Unicorn,_

_I do hope you have received my first message by now. Sorry for the delay, but I am not that smart and it took me a while to figure this out. Please don’t listen to your parents. You know I love you. I love everything about you and I want to marry you as soon as the war is over._

_-Love, Phoenix_

 

            This time, his response was slow in coming. Half of the summer passed before I received the third letter.

 

_Dear Phoenix,_

_I am miserable, even more so than before and it’s all your fault. You are the biggest arse in the history of arses. I hope the Dark Lord does kill you, because I hate you so much in this moment. It bears repeating, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you and I hope you die. Painfully. Definitely painfully._

_-Sincerely and with all due malice, Unicorn_

 

            I wasn’t sure what that one was about, other than the pregnancy symptoms getting worse. I wrote back right away.

           

_Dear Unicorn,_

_Why are you so upset? What have I done? I’m sorry you feel that way. Maybe that wasn’t the right way to ask you to marry me. I’ll do it properly next time I see you, I promise. I still love you with all my heart._

_-Love, Phoenix_

 

            Later the very same day that my letter went out, another letter arrived from him. It was too soon, so I figured he sent this one without having a chance to receive mine.

 

_Dear Phoenix,_

_I’m sorry. I didn’t mean half of what I wrote in the last letter. My hormones are a bit out of wack at the moment and I was just_ really _mad at you for not writing me. I still hate you and this is still all your fault, but I do not wish you dead. If you do die, I hope it is painless._

_-Sincerely, Unicorn_

 

 

            There was not another letter back, responding to my letter to him. I waited three days and then sent another letter.

 

_-Dear Unicorn_

_Are you getting my letters? I keep writing to you and you don’t write back to me. I hope you are feeling better._

_Love, Phoenix_

            Again, there wasn’t a response. I got distracted from my concern on my birthday, when the Order of the Phoenix came to rescue me from the Dursleys and took me to Grimmauld Place. I finally got an explanation for why Ron and Hermione weren’t writing me: they were worried my mail was being watched. There was so much to do and so many things to get caught up on, that a week passed with only the occasional thought for Draco and our unborn baby.

            When I did find myself desperate to see Draco, I went to Sirius and begged him to arrange a meeting. Sirius refused, convinced Lucius Malfoy wasn’t loyal to our side and would turn me over to Voldemort if given the chance. He went on a ridiculous rant about how if I were to visit Draco, Lucius would tear me from Draco’s arms and completely ignore Draco’s pleas, in order to use me to get back in with Voldemort. I didn’t care about Lucius possibly betraying me. If it meant seeing Draco, I’d risk it. Unfortunately, Sirius was my guardian and he forbade it. As a result, I had a falling out with Sirius and treated him like shite, until Dumbledore came and reminded me that I couldn’t see Draco or the baby anyway, for their safety. I had to defeat Voldemort first.

            With Lucius Malfoy on our side, the Order made progress they never would have made without him. For example, he had provided information that there were more dark objects like the Diary from Second year. He didn’t know how many or exactly what they all were, but he knew there were more and that one of them was Hufflepuff’s cup located in the Lestrange family vault in Gringotts. The adults didn’t seem to know exactly what Voldemort had done to these objects any more than us kids did, but they seemed to think Dumbledore knew and word was that Dumbledore said they had to be destroyed. Rumor around Headquarters was that the items gave Voldemort more power.

            We couldn’t get to the cup, but knowing what it was provided a clue as to what the other items could be. The first one had been the key to Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets. The second had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, who was also a Hogwarts founder. The theme seemed to be Hogwarts founders, so we figured we needed to keep an eye out for missing relics of the founders. Word from Dumbledore was that Slytherin’s locket had belonged to Voldemort’s mother and was thus likely one of Voldemort’s dark objects of power. There was a sketch of the thing tacked up on the wall at Headquarters, right next to a sketch of the cup.

            Us kids never thought we had a chance of getting either dark object, confined to Grimmauld Place as we were. But then one day we were cleaning and Ron found a locket that was a perfect match for Slytherin’s. It was given to Dumbledore, who confirmed it was the missing locket and that it was one of the dark objects we were looking for. He destroyed it, although no one ever found out how Voldemort’s locket could have ended up at the Ancient House of Black, other than Sirius’ suggestion that his late Death Eater brother, Regulus, must have left it there. Apparently Regulus was a more important Death Eater than anyone knew.

            So now Voldemort was down one diary and one locket, with the cup still to go. We didn’t know what else had survived from the founders or from Voldemort’s ancestors, but finding out was Hermione’s summer research project. Soon after we found the locket, she discovered the mystery of Ravenclaw’s lost Diadem and added a sketch of a tiara to the line of sketches in the hall, but no one had seen the thing in hundreds, if not thousands, of years. It seemed unlikely. And there was no telling how many other items were out there that he could’ve gotten hold of instead.

            The dark objects became my new focus, until I received another letter from Draco.

 

_Dear Phoenix,_

_I can’t believe you, you horrible awful git! I’ve gotten word that you are now hanging out at Headquarters with your friends. Off having a jolly time of it, are you, leaving me to deal with the consequences of your actions? You should be ashamed of yourself. Next, you’ll be going back to school, like nothing has changed. I hope you choke on the Welcoming Feast, you bloody arsehole._

_-With all due hatred, Unicorn_

 

            After that, I pulled out all the letters I’d gotten from him since leaving Hogwarts and reread them. There was not one indication in the lot of them that he’d gotten anything from me, after the last letter I’d passed through Snape. He did seem to have gotten the letters that went through Snape, because he knew why it was I couldn’t go to him. At least I thought he did.

            I went back and read the letters again; all of them this time, starting with the ones that had gone through Snape. It was clear that he’d been informed of my inability to join him in hiding and there was mention of my letter to him in the first letter he’d sent calling me a tosser. There was even a response to the second letter I’d sent through Snape and my apology. So, he’d gotten the letters when they went through Snape, but maybe the owls I’d sent had been intercepted.

 

_-Dear Unicorn,_

_Have you gotten any of the owls I’ve sent you? I fear you haven’t and that you’ve no idea how much I love you and miss you. I wish with all my heart that it were possible for me to be there with you. Please reply back, if you get this. Even if it’s just to tell me that you still hate me, please just let me know you are getting my owls._

_-Love, Phoenix_

 

            No response ever came, so the next time I saw Snape at one of the Order meetings I wasn’t allowed to attend, I passed him a copy of the same letter and asked, “Will you give this to Draco? I don’t think he’s been getting my owls.”

            “His father has forbidden communication between the two of you on grounds that you violated the courting contract. Lucius informed me that he plans on invoking his and Narcissa’s right to raise the child as an illegitimate Malfoy with no father,” Snape replied with a sneer. Then he handed back my letter, turned on his heel, billowing his robes dramatically, and left.

            I was left standing there in shock. I thought Lucius was on our side. It was Lucius who had told us about the cup and that knowledge had led us to the locket, but at the same time, Lucius was keeping my letters from Draco. He may have turned spy, but he hadn’t turned into one of the good guys. He was still out for himself. He probably only switched sides because of my relationship with Draco and would be happy to switch back, if he could get Draco and the baby away from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happened in this chapter, but I want to get through the summer and the coming school year without getting bogged down on the material that was covered in the books. I hope I managed to get it all in there and still make sense.   
> Up next will be a talk between Harry and Sirius. Please Review!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank Yumehayla for reviewing the last chapter!

            In my misery, I told everyone at Grimmauld what Snape had said about Lucius interfering with my letters to Draco and with our baby. Sirius sat me down alone that night for a talk.

            “Now Harry, listen to me. This is important. What did you sign?” Sirius asked, leaning in and talking in a stern, low voice.

            I told Sirius everything I could remember about the courting contract for the Yule Ball, including that it was supposed to be only for the ball and that Draco had dismissed it when he’d wanted to violate it, but had brought it back up when it suited him.

            “Harry, Harry, Harry! You should never have signed that without your own solicitor present!” Sirius scolded.

            “But I wasn’t going to violate any of those rules at the time! Draco is the one who broke the rules! I was just going along with what he wanted!” I protested.

            “It doesn’t matter. From what I gather, the contract sets it up so that you are at fault, regardless of who started it. In the eyes of the law, you seduced him.”

            “But he wanted me!”

            “It doesn’t matter. He’s under the age of consent. Legally, he can’t consent to sex with anyone. You raped him and impregnated him without consent,” Sirius replied.

            “But I’m younger than he is! I was only fourteen. He was fifteen already. If I raped him, then he raped me too!”

            “No, because you signed the contract acknowledging your responsibility. If that contract says he’s the girl and you’re the boy, like I think it does, then you can rape him, because he’s underage and a girl, but not the other way around, Harry.”

            “That’s not fair, Sirius!”

            “That’s what you signed, kid,” Sirius countered.

            “Ugh!” I exclaimed, pulling my own hair in frustration.

            “Calm down, Harry! There’s more to discuss.”

            “What more could there possibly be!?!” My arms flailed about to emphasize my extreme level of frustration.

            “Your baby, Harry.”

            That got my attention. I sat back and listened.

            “Now Harry, from what Snivellus said, Lucius plans on invoking the part of the contract that concerns the baby. You gave the Malfoys full custody of your child. How could you do something so stupid, Harry?” Sirius asked.

            “I can’t exactly keep the baby at Private Drive, now can I?” I asked petulantly.

            “You still didn’t need to give up _full_ custody, Harry! You signed all your rights away as the father! Now Lucius Malfoy has every right to keep that baby away from you!” Sirius yelled back.

            “Draco would never let Lucius do that! He’s not like that!”  
            “I hope you are right, Harry, because your only chance of seeing your child rests with the grace of Draco Malfoy and he doesn’t seem to be very happy with you right now, if his letters are anything to judge by.”

            “That’s because Lucius is keeping my letters from him!” I protested.

            “And as long as this war is going on; as long as Lucius is keeping his family in hiding, there is no way to get around that. Until Draco reaches the age of seventeen, Lucius has every right to order his elves to keep all of your letters from getting to his son,” Sirius said.

            “But that’s two years away!” I wailed in distress.

            “You should have thought about that, before you put your wand in Malfoy’s cauldron, Harry! How stupid can you get? Signing a contract like that with the Malfoys and then violating it! And you didn’t even use a contraceptive charm!”

            “How was I supposed know!?!” I shouted back.

            Sirius groaned. I got up and started pacing, muttering under my breath about how no one had told me any of this.

            After a minute, Sirius got up and stopped my pacing with a hand on my shoulder. He turned me towards him and I looked up at him with anger as we made eye contact.

            “This is my fault, Harry. I’m your godfather. I should’ve told you. I should’ve been there for you. Your dad should’ve been here to teach you a contraceptive charm and talk to you about sex, but he isn’t here, so it falls to me. I’ve failed you,” Sirius said.

            “And my baby! What about him! Or her! How are we going to get her back?” I demanded, fine with putting the blame on him. He was the adult. I’d only been fourteen. I was barely fifteen now. “I want my baby! I want Draco too!”

            “Oh bugger!” Sirius exclaimed.

            “What kind of an answer is that?” I demanded.

            “I need to think about this more, Harry. We’re going to need a solicitor. I need to talk to Dumbledore and see what can be done,” he answered.

            That seemed like the most reasonable thing I’d heard all day, so I agreed.

            I had to wait while the adults talked about my life without asking me for much input at all. Dumbledore came a few days later and asked me to confirm what I’d told Sirius.

            “Do you want to marry him, Harry? This is critical to how we go forward, so I need you to think long and hard about this, before you answer,” Dumbledore said.

            “I don’t need to think about it! Of _course_ I want to marry him!” I exclaimed. I’d said as much in one of the letters that never made it to Draco. “I want Draco and I want our baby! Why is this so hard?”

            “Okay, Harry, okay. I will see what I can do,” Dumbledore replied.

            “What can you do?” I implored. Sirius had made my case seem rather hopeless.

            “Not much, at the moment. You are going to have to wait for Draco to turn seventeen or this war to end, because there is no way Lucius will accept a marriage proposal for his only son while Voldemort is alive,” Dumbledore answered.

            “A marriage proposal?” I asked.

            “Yes, that’s your best hope, if you want them both. I’ll have a solicitor put together a proposal. If you win the war, Harry, you’ll be a hero. You’ll be _the_ hero. Lucius will accept. Draco and the baby will be yours.”

            “And if I lose?”

            “You’ll be dead,” he said seriously.

            “What if the prophecy is wrong? What if someone else kills him and I’m not a hero?” I asked. “I’m barely fifteen. What makes you think I can do anything?”

            “That won’t happen,” Dumbledore replied.

            “What if it does?” I pressed.

            “Then it’s up to Lucius and the courts. We’ll take this matter to the Wizenagamot if we have to. A document showing that your intentions are marriage and that you want to take responsibility for your child will go a long way to earning the favor of the courts,” Dumbledore answered.

            “Fine. Let’s do it then,” I replied.

            And that is how it was. The last days of my summer vacation were spent with a solicitor who was part of the Order, putting together a marriage proposal to send to Lucius asking for Draco’s hand. There was also discussion of the baby and what I could do to get my parental rights back. Ultimately, the recommendation was that I send support payments, starting immediately, to show my intention to support Draco and our child. It would drain the inheritance from my parents rather quickly, so I’d have to get a job straight out of Hogwarts to keep up the payments, but there was enough money to cover monthly support payments to Draco for the next three years. No more flinging my money around on frivolities like sweets and butterbeers, but it would be worth it, if I could get my parental rights back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I will be jumping ahead again after this one. Please review!


	16. Chapter 16

            The morning of the first day of classes, I received an owl from Draco.

 

_Dear Phoenix,_

_Word is, you did not choke on the Welcoming Feast. This is very disappointing news. I almost want You Know Who to win. I would be fine with him killing you, if it wasn’t for what that would mean for me._

_I can’t believe your selfish arse actually went through with going back to your life as if you haven’t ruined mine. I hate you for doing this to me. When this is over, I will make you pay for this. If you think you’re going to be the Wizarding World’s darling, you’ve got another thing coming. Mark my words: one day, everyone will know what you’ve done._

_I hate you, Unicorn_

 

            That was the last letter for a while. I wrote Draco back, even though I knew he wouldn’t receive it. Then I got busy with school. Dumbledore arranged for Snape to give me Occlumency lessons, which I really wanted to excel at, to keep Draco and our baby safe, but I still failed miserably.

            We had a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a toad by the name of Umbridge, who was the worst one yet. I really could’ve used Draco by my side; we could’ve taken the interfering hag down like we took Barty Crouch junior down.

            I received regular vitriolic owls from Draco, expressing his continued displeasure with me, every one of which I replied to, knowing he would never be allowed to read my owls.

            Then one day in March, Snape gave me a detention for my, “Utter incompetence,” which I thought was a new low for him, until I showed up to my detention.

            “Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You are a father. Draco had a healthy baby boy yesterday evening. I thought you would like to scrub my cauldrons in exchange for the information,” Snape said, indicating the usual pile of cauldrons.

            “He had the baby?” I asked, elated.

            “Yes.”

            “And it’s healthy?” I asked.

            “Yes. I see your comprehension skills are as dismal as ever,” Snape answered.

            “Thank you! Thank you so much for this! You’ve no idea what this means to me! What did he name him?”

            “Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. He told me he considered Tom, to spite you, but it was too Muggle,” Snape answered.

            “What’s he look like?” I asked.

            “If you like, I happen to have a photo of myself holding a certain Malfoy baby,” he said, pulling out a photograph from his desk.

            I took it gladly, not the least bit bothered by the greasy-haired professor in the shot. There he was: my baby, in Professor Snape’s arms. He was tiny, my Scorpius was. His face was so smushed up from the birth that it was hard to tell who he looked like. He was a little red cone-head, with a pointy chin. There was no hair that I could see and his eyes were closed.

            “It’s hard to tell, but I detect a similarity to the Evans family,” Snape said.

            “The Evans family? My mum’s family?” I asked.

            “Yes,” he answered, giving nothing away.

            “You knew my mother?” I asked. Now that I thought about it, it made sense. He was in the same year as my father, so that meant he was in the same year as my mother too.

            “We did attend Hogwarts together,” he confirmed.

            “The eyes. Does he have my mother’s green eyes?” I asked, jumping to conclusions. My eyes were the only trait I had from my mother, so it was the only thing I could think that I might’ve passed to my son.

            “It is too soon to tell. The child’s eyes are currently an odd shade of grey, darker than Draco’s. What color they will end up, there is no way of knowing.”

            “Then in what way does he look like my mum?” I asked.

            “In every way,” came the cryptic reply.

            “What does that mean? Like his hair, or something?”

            “No. The fuzz on his head, if you want to call it hair, is so pale that it appears translucent.”

            I looked again at the photo, trying to make out blond hair on the apparently bald head, but failing. Scorpius looked completely hairless to me, although there was a bit of pale fuzz above each eye. “Then what?” I asked, desperately wanting to know more about my newborn son.

            “The shape of the face,” he answered.

            “The shape of his face? He’s not pointy, like Draco?” I asked.

            “He may sharpen up. Draco was rounder in the face when he was born, Mr. Potter. Any more questions, or would you like to get to work? I could always give you detention for tomorrow as well,” Snape threatened.

            “Please sir. I just want to know everything you know about him. He’s my son. And Draco. How is Draco? Is he all right?” I asked pleadingly.

            “He is resting. The labor was difficult, which is typical for a first time. He was recovering when I left.”

            “Could you give a message to him?” I asked, wanting Draco to know that I still loved him and was so proud of him for getting through this and bringing our son into the world.

            “No, but he sent me one for you.”

            “Yes, Professor?”

            “Draco asked me to tell you that you will _never_ get to see or hold his son, after you abandoned him like this,” Snape informed me.

            “But I didn’t abandon him! I must stay at the school, because of the prophecy! If I went into hiding, Voldemort would win and I’d lead him to their doorstep and then we’d all be in danger!” I protested.

            “I am not the one you need to convince, Mr. Potter. I am simply relaying what Mr. Malfoy said. Now if you are done, there are cauldrons to scrub,” Snape countered.

            I huffed out a, “Fine,” and went to tuck the photo into my bag, in order to get to work.

            “I believe that photograph belongs to me, Mr. Potter,” Snape said, holding out a hand for it.

            “But he’s my son!” I protested.

            “And by keeping that, you will be leading the enemy to his doorstep, as you well know. If you wish to view my personal photographs of babies who are not in any way associated with the Potter family again, another detention can be arranged. Until then, please hand it over, Mr. Potter.”

            I didn’t want to do it, but he was the adult and possibly right about things like this. A baby who was once held by Snape was less of a target than a baby who was once held by Snape in a picture in my possession. It went against every instinct I had, but I returned the photo.

            Then I spent the rest of the night scrubbing out Snape’s cauldrons. At least I had detention tonight. It was a sad state of affairs when I was grateful for a detention, but if it weren’t for Snape’s detention, I wouldn’t even know that Draco had had the baby. Snape had given me a lot of information—more than I’d thought I’d get, especially with showing me the picture—so I should be happy with that. Only I wasn’t happy, because I wanted more.

            I wanted to go to Draco. I wanted to hug him; to hold him in my arms and look down at our son in his arms. I wanted to see our baby with my own eyes; hold him even. But it wasn’t to be. Instead I spent the remainder of evening scrubbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Review!


	17. Chapter 17

            I fell for Voldemort’s mind games, went to the Ministry to save Sirius, and wound up getting Sirius killed. It was all my fault. It was my fault I’d signed the contract abdicating my parental rights. It was my fault for having sex with Draco without using a contraceptive spell and thereby forcing Draco into hiding and away from me. It was my fault I’d lost Scorpius, Draco, and now Sirius. Even my mom and dad had died to protect me. They were all gone, because of me.

            I did a lot of wallowing and grieving during the summer after fifth year.

            The only thing that lifted my persistence dower mood, was the occasional letter from Draco. The letters had stopped completely for a good three months after Scorpius was born. Snape said that was because Draco was exhausted from caring for our baby. My only news on them for the rest of the school year had come from Snape, who regularly gave me detentions in which he showed me photos of him holding Scorpius, before ordering me to scrub cauldrons. But then after Sirius died, the letters from Draco resumed.

 

_-Dear Phoenix,_

_I heard you captured my father and then let him go. I would thank you for that small kindness, but I think that’s the least you could do, after abandoning us. I don’t understand why you think getting in fights like that is a better use of your time than being with us. What could you have possibly gained from going there and putting yourself and your friends at risk? The prophecy? I have it from Snape that Dumbledore already told you the details of the Prophecy. I don’t understand you._

_-Unicorn_

That letter was less vitriolic than usual and that gave me hope.

 

* * *

 

 

            Dumbledore himself came to get me from the Dursleys that year. He picked me up with a blackened hand. He said it was a story for another time, but it was obvious that he’d damaged it recovering one of Voldemort’s dark objects: a ring. So now we’d gotten the Diary, the locket, and a ring. The cup was still to go.

            Dumbledore took me with him on an errand to get a retired teacher to rejoin the Hogwarts staff. Then I spent the rest of the summer with the Weasleys. The war was getting worse and there was a feeling going around that we had to act soon. Hermione, Ron, and I began to discuss how to get the cup from inside Gringotts. But it was all talk, because none of us wanted a repeat of what had happened when we broke into the Ministry and got Sirius killed.

            When school started again, I had private lessons with Dumbledore. I learned everything there was to know about Voldemort. I learned that the dark objects were Horcruxes and that there were seven of them. We’d gotten three, knew of a fourth, but that still left three to go. Dumbledore had an idea that the fifth might be Nagini, Voldemort’s snake. The seventh might never have been created, because Voldemort might have been saving it for killing me and that hadn’t gone as planned. But there was likely a sixth item out them: something from one of the founders.

            Ravenclaw’s Diadem started looking better and better. Dumbledore even thought there was a chance it, or another Horcrux, was located in the school, although he’d searched the school himself many times. But Dumbledore didn’t have my father’s map. He didn’t know about the room of requirement. And he couldn’t access the chamber of secrets. Ron, Hermione, and I had our secret mission for the year: search every nook and cranny at the school for something from the founders.

            Hermione had come up with several additional artifacts from the founders that might still be in existence: Hufflepuff’s teaspoon, Hufflepuff’s candlestick holders, Slytherin’s belt buckle, Ravenclaw’s hairclip, and Ravenclaw’s brooch. Dumbledore said that the hairclip and the brooch were accounted for, the teaspoon and candlestick holders were believed to have been destroyed in a fire, but that the belt buckle was a possibility. The belt buckle had been sold by the Gaunt family, had a few known owners, and then disappeared.

            So, we were looking for either Slytherin’s belt buckle or Ravenclaw’s Diadem. We searched the Chamber of Secrets first, because that was the best place in the school for Voldemort to have hidden something, especially if it was Slytherin’s belt buckle. We found some basilisk fangs, which Hermione thought might be useful and gathered up, but no belt buckle and no diadem. We tried searching the room of requirement, but the room provided us with an empty room, because we didn’t know what to ask for. Then we combed the rest of the school and came out empty handed.

            Towards the end of the school year, Snape discovered that I was cheating by using the Halfblood Prince’s potion book. I loved that book and didn’t want it taken away, so I ran to the room of requirement to hide it. That is when I found the Room of Hidden Things. There was a tiara in there. I almost passed over it, but then I’d spent so many hours looking for a diadem that I grabbed it out of impulse. I was sure it wasn’t the right diadem, but I still wanted it checked out. I handed it over to Dumbledore, who said it _was_ the right one after all and destroyed it using Gryffindor’s sword.

            The Diadem, the Locket, the Diary, and the Ring were now gone. That left the Cup and the Snake and possibly one more thing, but probably not. Still, we had to be sure, so when Dumbledore found the location of a cave by the shore Voldemort had visited as a boy, he took me along. Inside the cave, we found a fake locket with a note from Regulus, explaining that he’d stolen the real locket, aiming to destroy it. Only Regulus had been murdered by Voldemort before he could do it. We had our explanation for how the locket ended up in Grimmauld Place, but Dumbledore was very weak and needed medical treatment.

            I got us back to the school and fetched Snape to help, but Snape turned on us, killed Dumbledore, and ran off. I ran after Snape, trying to stop him, but failed.

            Then I was left with the knowledge that Snape knew where Draco and Scorpius were hiding and had turned to the other side. Dumbledore was dead, so there was no one left to help me. My only choice was to end this war as soon as possible. The cup and the snake had to be destroyed. The Gringotts break in had to happen, whether it was impossible or not. I had Hermione and Ron on my side and together the three of us were going to attempt the impossible.

            But first, I had to return to the Dursleys one last time and attend a wedding at the Weasleys. The wedding was interrupted by Death Eaters, sending me and my friends into hiding at Grimmauld Place. From there, we finished planning our raid on the bank. It wasn’t much of a plan, but we got in and Hermione stabbed the cup with a Basilisk fang. We tried to get out on the back of a blind dragon, but were cornered when we reached the surface. The final battle happened right there in Diagon Alley.

            Voldemort killed me, but it didn’t take. It sent me to Kings Cross Station where Dumbledore explained that I’d been the seventh Horcrux and that Voldemort had just destroyed it himself. That just left the snake. When I regained consciousness, Ron had already killed the snake. Apparently, Fawkes had shown up with the sorting hat, from which Ron had pulled the Sword of Gryffindor and in his rage over my death, he’d cut the snake’s head off. That was all the Horcruxes gone and Voldemort was now mortal.

            Others had fought and died while Voldemort and I lay unconscious. Hermione took out Voldemort’s right hand-men, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, as well as Fenrir Greyback. Her and Ron’s victories were only possible, because Fred and George Weasley had come to our rescue, fighting beside Ron and Hermione. Fred died and George was injured, but they protected their little brother as fiercely as anyone could. Snape died too, protecting my body of all things; apparently, he’d switched sides one last time.

            It came down to me against Voldemort and I won.

            It was August, summer after my sixth year and the war was over. Fred and Snape were dead. And worse, there was a vial of memories in Snape’s pocket, revealing that he’d been in love with my mother and protecting me all along. Dumbledore hadn’t been pleading for his life, but for a fast death, because the slow death spreading out from his cursed hand was agonizing. I felt like a cad for all those times I had taken Snape for granted or treated him poorly, when really he was the one person who protected me until the end. But I couldn’t let Snape’s sacrifice be in vain: I had to live.

            To live, I had to get Draco and our son back. I had to find a way to contact them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it wasn’t too rushed, but I feel like the events of the war were best told in the original. Now Harry can spend the rest of the story focusing on getting his family back. Any ideas how he should do it? Please Review!


	18. Chapter 18

            Normally, Rita Skeeter would be the last person who I’d seek out. I certainly wouldn’t be sitting here giving her an exclusive interview, if I could think of any other way to reach Draco.

            The war was over, but Draco, Narcissa, and Scorpius were all still in hiding. Worse, Lucius, the one known living link to them, disappeared at the start of the final battle, presumably having run away; at least he hadn’t turned on the order and started fighting for the other side, but I still thought him a coward. I’d tried owls, but as usual, got no response. I’d tried asking Kingsley to help, when he personally thanked me for defeating Voldemort, but he didn’t know where the Malfoys were or how to get to them. Now, I was trying Skeeter and revealing my secrets to the world.

            I would’ve preferred to send Skeeter to Azkaban. If I’d been aware of a single piece of evidence that she was involved in a crime, I would’ve never agreed to give her the exclusive. Although she’d written a lot of very biased crap stories over the years, especially the load of bull she wrote after Dumbledore’s death and leading up to the final battle outside of Gringotts, she wasn’t involved in the fighting. A lot of people who were suspected of having sympathy for Voldemort or of Pureblood leanings, just did not have a chance to take sides, because of how quickly I ended the war. But I had to end the war, because that was the only way I could get Draco and my son back. I didn’t regret it, especially because I knew that more people would have been killed if I’d let the war drag on.

            Now it was over and I’d done everything I could think of to find them. I’d asked for the Minister’s help. I’d asked for Head Auror Robards’ help. I’d gone to every Malfoy owned property on record, except for the beach house that was unreachable, with all the signs of a Fidelius having been placed on it. I’d written owls. I’d cried. I’d begged. I’d pleaded. But I still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Draco.

            That is why I sat there across from Skeeter, telling her about how Ron, Hermione, and I broke into Gringotts to destroy Voldemort’s Horcrux. She didn’t need to know there was more than one. I almost didn’t want to tell anyone about the Horcruxes at all, because I didn’t want anyone to know and try to immolate Voldemort. I didn’t want the knowledge available for the next Dark Lord. But I couldn’t think of any way around telling her about the one.

            If not for a Horcrux, then why else would we have broken into one of the most secure places in the Wizarding World—a place guarded by goblins and a dragon, with the most powerful curses and protection spells on it—to stab Hufflepuff’s cup with a Basilisk fang? How else had Voldemort lived, when he was torn from his body by my mother’s protection when I was just a baby? How else had he come back to life? Head Auror Robards and Minister for Magic Shacklebolt, both told me they suspected as much. When I’d asked their opinion on sharing this knowledge with the world, they’d agreed that the truth had to come out.

            So, I told Skeeter all about Hufflepuff’s cup and the final battle that followed. I told her about all the research Hermione had done into Gringotts, first learning what spells and curses might be used to protect the Lestrange vault, and then researching the counter spells and curses. For example, there had been a Geminio curse on the vault, but Hermione knew the counter, so she removed it as we entered, the same way a vault owner would. There had been a lot of other protections that Hermione had learned about, but we hadn’t needed them, because only Geminio was on the vault we broke into.

            Then I told Skeeter of the battle that followed our escape from the vault. About my death and my coming back to life. About Ron beheading Nagini. About Hermione taking out three of the worst wizards of our time. About Fred and George’s being first on the scene and protecting Ron and Hermione from retaliation, but George being injured and Fred being killed in their efforts. I told her how Snape had stood guard over my lifeless body and been killed for it. And I told how I’d later found the vial of memories, revealing the truth. Finally, I told how the battle had once again come down to me and Voldemort, but that this time we were both mortal and this time, our twin wand cores had saved me and rebounded his own spell back on him.

            Hours later, after Skeeter had exhausted the subject of the war, the Gringotts break-in, and my final defeat of Voldemort in Diagon Alley, she asked, “So Harry, what are you going to do with your life now? Are you back to school again in September, to finish your NEWTs?”

            I was about to tell her that as a matter of fact, I wasn’t going back, because I’d already been offered a spot in the Aurors by Kingsley. My plan was to spend all my time searching for Draco and our son and getting them back. The only way I’d even consider going back to school, was if Draco wanted to go back. I’d go back to be with him. And that was a real possibility, because he hadn’t had a chance to finish his OWLs. Everyone at least needed to earn their OWLs.

            But as I opened my mouth to speak, to tell Skeeter this, we were suddenly interrupted by Lucius Malfoy entering the room.

            “Harry, sorry to interrupt, but you’ve said quite enough already. Do come with me. I have someone waiting for you,” Lucius said, hand extended to me.

            “He’s waiting for me?” I asked excitedly, jumping out of my seat. I didn’t know why Lucius was here now, but I would jump at the chance to see Draco.

            “A solicitor, yes, is waiting for you. We need to work out a few details before I can arrange what you want,” Lucius answered.

            “What is it that our young Harry wants?” Skeeter asked, butting in.

            “All right. But what are you doing here, Lucius?” I asked, stepping towards him, eager for the chance he was offering me.

            “I own part of the Daily Prophet. I was notified that you would be here. I’ve been waiting for your interview to end,” he answered.

            “Oh, but our interview hasn’t ended Lucius. We were just getting started on Harry’s personal life!” Skeeter exclaimed.

            “His personal life is off-limits,” Lucius replied sternly to Skeeter. Then he turned back to me. “Harry, are you coming? I will side-along apparate us to our destination. Take my hand.”

            I took it. He entwined his arm with mine, turned on the spot, and disapparated us.

            We reappeared in an old wood-paneled room, lined with thick leather books. There was one large desk in the room and behind it, sat an old hunched-back wizard with a long beard.

            The wizard looked up and grinned behind his beard. “Ah Lucius, this is him then? Harry Potter?” he asked.

            “Yes. Harry, this is my solicitor, Stefan Lestrange. Stefan, this is Harry Potter, my hopefully soon to be son-in-law,” Lucius introduced.

            “Son-in-law?” I repeated.

            “If we can come to an arrangement, I don’t see why we cannot settle everything to everyone’s satisfaction. I received a request from you to marry my son, Draco. That is still your wish, is it not?” Lucius asked.

            “Yes, more than anything!” I exclaimed.

            “Well, Stefan here can put the contract together, once we agree on terms,” Lucius said.

            “Stefan? Stefan Lestrange, you said?” I asked, brows knitted together.

            “Yes, Lestrange. I am the patriarch of the noble Lestrange family,” Stefan beamed proudly.

            “Lestrange, as in Bellatrix Lestrange?” I asked with a scowl. I hated Bellatrix for killing Sirius.

            “Yes, Bellatrix is married to my grandson, Rodolphus. And finally, after all these years, she is producing me a great granddaughter!” Stefan proclaimed proudly.

            “A great granddaughter? You mean Bellatrix Lestrange is pregnant?” I asked disgusted at the thought.

            “Yes, yes. Isn’t it wonderful? Rabastan’s new wife is pregnant as well. That one’s a boy, I can feel it. The Lestrange family name will live on, although sadly, both my grandsons died in the final battle,” Stefan continued, oblivious to my reaction. He left out that they’d both died fighting on the wrong side, killed by my best friend, Hermione.

            “Is that why she wasn’t at the final battle?” I asked. It wasn’t like her to be missing in action for something like that.

            “Yes, yes, of course! She couldn’t possibly fight in her condition,” Stefan replied.

            “I hope she dies during childbirth. No baby should have to grow up with a mother like her,” I said.

            Lucius stepped in then. “Harry, we aren’t here to discuss the Lestranges. We are here to discuss you marrying my son and adopting my grandson,” he said.

            “Adopting _my_ son, you mean. Why would I have to adopt my own son?” I asked angrily.

            “My son gave birth out of wedlock. There is no second father, yet. Whoever he marries will have the option to adopt the child,” Lucius answered.

            I wanted to scream and punch Lucius Malfoy. I wanted to make him pay for everything he did to keep me away from Draco and Scorpius. I almost wanted him dead, but not quite, because I knew how much he meant to Draco. I didn’t want to hurt Draco.

            I let out a grunt of frustration, but then reigned my emotions in. I had to go through this man to get to Draco. I had to play along. I had to do this his way. Once I marry Draco and have him and my son back, then I would spirit them away from this pompous arse and do my best to cut Lucius from our lives. But for now, Lucius was in control and I still didn’t know where Draco and Scorpius were.

            “Scorpius is _my_ son!” I tried not to yell it, but I did.

            “Harry, may I call you that?” Stefan asked.

            I glared in response and bit out, “What?”

            “Harry, we are here to discuss the terms under which you will be able to claim your rightful position as Scorpius Malfoy’s father!” Stefan proclaimed. “We are going to fix this mess. You didn’t want things to be this way, I know. You wanted to marry Draco and take responsibility for your child. I have the paperwork you sent to that effect. But circumstances intervened. With the war, you couldn’t marry Draco. Now that the war is over, the three of us can fix everything! You will get to marry your true love and will have your son too. Isn’t that what you want?”

            “Yes!” I exclaimed, feeling relieved and letting some of my anger go. Despite this wizard being related to the late Rodolphus Lestrange, he was offering me what I wanted.

            “Good. Let’s talk terms, shall we?” Stefan asked.

            I nodded. “All right.”

            “Now Lucius shouldn’t have phrased it like that, but the fact is that because the Dark Lord wanted you dead, Lucius had to protect his son and grandson. Being connected to you could have cost them their lives. So, Lucius chose to invoke his option to raise Scorpius as an illegitimate Malfoy, with no second father. Doing otherwise might have cost the child his life!” Stefan exclaimed.

            “He’s trying to take my son away from me!” I protested.

            “No, I have already taken your son. He was never with you. I am trying to give him to you now,” Lucius retorted.

            “He’s mine!” I yelled.

            “Yes, Harry, he is yours and you shall have him. No one is going to keep him from you anymore. We just need to agree on the terms of the wedding contract!” Stefan replied.

            “What terms?” I asked.

            And so Stefan told me. They were lenient terms, according to him and Lucius. They even seemed rather reasonable to me.

            Instead of asking for the remainder of my inheritance and all my future earnings to be transferred to Draco, they asked for a modest monthly stipend for Draco that increased with every child we had. The current price, for Draco plus one child, was equal to the amount I was already paying. The price went up by half that amount for each additional child; a reasonable amount for each dependent, especially considering that Draco couldn’t work and would be the stay-at-home parent. I wouldn’t be comfortable with him getting less. In fact, I doubted whether he would be happy living on so little.

            The contract stipulated some minor things that didn’t need to be spelled out in my opinion, because they were so obvious. Like that Draco was to accompany me to any Ministry functions I attend, if he felt like it, and that I wasn’t allowed to take anyone else. I wouldn’t want to go with anyone else. Along the same likes, there was a monogamy clause, stating that I wouldn’t cheat on Draco, but of course I wouldn’t cheat on Draco.

            One of the things I took issue with was the living arrangements. “I don’t want to live with you and Narcissa in Malfoy Manor,” I said. “My godfather left me the House of Black. I want to live there.”

            “That old ruin? Has it been fixed up?” Lucius asked in reply.

            “No…” I admitted. It was in awful shape.

            “It would have to be renovated, before I could even think about letting Draco live there. Even then, he’d have to give the approval,” Lucius replied.

            “That’s reasonable. Draco should get an equal say in where we live. We should be deciding it together. It shouldn’t be you and me and Stefan making decisions for him,” I said.

            “We could write that into the contract. Instead of specifying the location, we could list housing options that are available and leave it to Draco to choose,” Stefan put in. Who would have thought a Lestrange would be the mediator in any group?

            “And if he doesn’t like any of our options, I could sell my house and buy one he likes,” I added.

            Lucius and Stefan blanched in horror.

            “Harry, you cannot just sell the family house. You can specify an heir and give up ownership if you do not want it, but you cannot turn a profit from destroying your family,” Stefan said.

            “Then why doesn’t every family have a family house? Why didn’t the Potters?” I asked.

            “The Potters are not so old as the Black family, but yes, they did for many years have a family house. It burned down some years back, so your parents moved into the family’s other property, in Godric’s Hollow. Technically, the Potter family still owns the property in Godric’s Hollow, but after it was exploded, it became sort of a monument of sorts. I don’t know if the property could be made habitable once again,” Stefan answered.

            “All right, fine. I won’t sell the House of Black, but I still might buy Draco a new house, if he wants one,” I insisted.

            Lucius agreed to that, settling the matter.

            There was another squabble, because Lucius wanted visitation of Draco, Scorpius, and additional children yet to be born, written into the contract for himself and Narcissa. I argued that how much Draco saw his parents was Draco’s decision to make and flat out refused to make it for him. Lucius didn’t seem happy about, but eventually caved.

            Stefan put it all together and I read through it to make sure it was what we’d agreed on, but I couldn’t just sign it. I’d lost my son over signing the last contract without a solicitor. Dumbledore and Sirius were dead, so I couldn’t ask their advice, but I did know the name of the solicitor they’d arranged for me last time. I took the contract to him and he read through it immediately, before explaining what it was I was signing. It went over the consequences of everything I was agreeing to, making sure I knew that cheating on Draco or being unable to make my financial obligations, even if it was because I’d lost my job, would be grounds for Draco to leave me and take the kids. Just like the last one, this contract gave Draco full custody in the event of a break-up.

            I had no plans of breaking up with Draco. As far as I was concerned, Draco and I were going to be together for the rest of our lives. But I didn’t want to make another huge mistake and give Lucius a chance to get between me and my family, so I took my solicitor’s advice and had the wording changed. Now the contract said that if we broke up, Draco would maintain primary guardianship, but I would have visitation.

            Then we were finished and Lucius and I signed. Finally, Lucius was going to take me to see Draco and Scorpius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a long time since we’ve seen Draco, but that’s coming to an end. Next chapter, we will get to see where Draco has been hiding all this time! Please Review!


	19. Chapter 19

            Lucius side-along apparated me to the missing Malfoy house on the southern coast. Being August, the air was extremely hot and humid, making the water look that much more enticing. I was dressed too warm for the beach and I regretted it.

            I brushed aside my discomfort and scanned the grounds for a sign of Draco or our baby. The sand was littered with children’s sand toys and the walk was blocked by a tricycle, indicating that a child did live here, but he wasn’t in sight.

            “I told Snotty to put this thing away when Scorpius is finished with it,” Lucius growled. “Snotty!”

            An elf appeared, bowing its nose to the ground and asked, “Yes, Master Lucius, sir? How can Snotty be serving Master Lucius, sir?”

            Lucius ordered, “Put this bloody tricycle away, Snotty!”

            “But Master Lucius, sir, Master Scorpius, sir, be ordering Snotty not to touch Master Scorpius, sir’s, things!” Snotty protested, wringing his hands.

            “Master Scorpius is one! Put his toys away,” Lucius snarled.

            “Yes, Master Lucius, sir. Right away, Master,” the elf said, snapping his fingers and vanishing the tricycle.

            With that settled, Lucius marched up the walk and into a mudroom.

            I followed, looking around for signs of Draco’s belongings. There was Draco’s winter cloak, hanging on a hook and Draco’s dragonhide boots underneath. There were also baby sized cloaks and jackets and little tiny boots and shoes of various sizes. My anticipation grew as I was finally convinced that this was it. I was going to be reunited with the love of my life and finally get to meet our son! We’d be married soon and then I could take them away from Lucius Bloody Malfoy.

            Lucius led me into a parlor, where he asked me to take a seat on a sofa, while he fetched Draco. I sat. He left.

            While I waited, I scanned the room, once again seeing items that had definitely belonged to Draco, such as his fancy silver quill and his Potter Stinks badges, and toys and baby clothes, that might belong to Scorpius. There was even a changing table in the corner, stocked with a pile of fresh nappies. This was it.

            And then Draco was there, coming into the room with a scowl on his face! He was as beautiful as I remembered, although his robes looked worse for wear. He was taller; a lot taller. I’d grown a lot over the last two years, practically a foot, but he’d grown just as much, if not more. Something else had grown too: his chest. Where before there had only been the hint of breasts forming, he now had a rack the size of Hermione’s. The shape of his body had changed too, visible underneath robes that were tighter in the hips and butt than they’d been, although his waist appeared as slender as ever. He was curvier, like a witch, but only just. He was still the hottest person I’d ever seen.

            I jumped up and moved to embrace him, heart soaring because after all this time, he was finally right here, in front of me!

            He pushed me away, shouting, “What the fuck, Potter!?! Keep your hands off me!”

            “But we’re going to be married,” I protested, confusion in my voice.

            His lip curled up in a sneer. “Are we? Funny, no one’s asked me.”

            “I’m here to ask you now! I’ve been looking for you.”

            “Have you?”

            “Yes,” I answered, longing to hug him, but he still seemed very distant and angry.

            “I’ve been here all along. You were the one who left me. You were the one who refused to go into hiding with me. You were the one who abandoned me,” he accused, his even tone hiding the anger that blared in his eyes.

            “I didn’t want to. I had to. Voldemort would’ve come after you and the baby! I was protecting you!”

            “You were protecting me? By abandoning me?”

            “Yes,” I answered, desperate for him to believe me. “I love you!”

            “You love me?” he asked incredulously and I nodded. “You’ve a funny way of showing it.”

            “I do love you, Draco,” I insisted. Then I remembered the letters. “I’ve been writing to you. I know you haven’t been getting them. Snape told me your father was intercepting my letters and refused to pass anything to you. But I’ve still been writing. I’ve missed you so much. I can’t tell you how much I wanted this war to end, so that I could finally get back to you!”

            “No, you wanted this war to end, so that you could play the hero and get Snape killed in the process. Well I have news for you, oh great Savior: I don’t want you back. I’m moving on with my life.”

            “What?” I asked perplexed.

            “You heard me: I do not want you back. I hate you. You abandoned me and now it’s too late. I won’t have you back. You can leave. I’m fine without you.”

            “But we’re to be getting married,” I protested weekly, heart breaking.

            “Are we?” he asked.

            “Yes. Your father and I just settled the contract.”

            “Well then you and my father can get married! My mother will be upset, but clearly the two of you are very close. You should have each other. Bloody wizards. Not worth your weight in hippogriff’s dung, the lot of you,” he said with a sneer.

            “I don’t want to marry him! I want to marry you!” I shouted.

            “Well I don’t want to marry you! I don’t need a wizard. Scorpius and I have been just fine without you. And if you didn’t notice, I’m seventeen now. I don’t have to marry someone just because my father orders it anymore. I’m out from his controlling thumb. Sure there’s the allowance, but he can’t just cut me off for not doing what he tells me to. I’m a grown man. I can make my own decisions. I can marry whoever I want to. And I do _not_ want to marry you. In fact, I don’t want to get married at all. Scorpius and I are doing just fine on my father’s allowance.”

            “Your father’s allowance? What about the money I’ve been sending you?” I asked.

            “What money?” he asked.

            “For you and the baby. Dumbledore and Sirius set it up for me. Every month, money is supposed to be transferred to you from my vault. Are you not getting it?” I asked.

            “No, I’ve not gotten a _knut_ from you. I’ve been stretching my allowance to cover the things we need. My mother buys some of the toys with her allowance. The rest of the toys came from Professor Snape, which was a bit of a shock, because I had no idea he loved babies and toys so much,” he answered.

            “Ah,” Lucius said, popping his ugly head into the room from where he’d clearly been eavesdropping in the hallway. “Draco, I should tell you that a vault was created in your name and has been accumulating funds. I have not touched it, because it was linked to Harry. Having ties to him was very dangerous until very recently.”

            “What?” Draco asked, staring darkly at his father.

            “Everything I did, was for your safety. Yours and Scorpius’. I had to protect you,” Lucius replied.

            “How does stealing my letters protect him?” I asked petulantly.

            “Did you intercept his letters, Father?” Draco asked pointedly.

            “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Lucius lied.

            “Yes, you do, you bloody arse! I’ve been writing Draco all along and you’ve been keeping my letters from him!” I accused.

            “I assure you, I would do no such thing,” Lucius denied.

            “You know what? I don’t care. Even if Harry did send letters, I’m not going to marry him. He could’ve gone into hiding with us and he didn’t. He chose to abandon me and Scorpius. I won’t have him back,” Draco told his father.

            “But Draco, think of prudence! It’s time you marry the father of your child!” Lucius replied.

            “I don’t care. We are fine without him. We are fine without you-” Draco started to say, but was interrupted by an explosion.

            A tiny blond child came running into the room, giggling, behind the explosion. His short hair was a mess as it moved around his pointy little face. His tiny little feet were incased in white sneakers that made a clomping sound on the wood floor as he ran. His little black robes billowed behind him. His smile lit up the room, more brightly than the explosion had.

            Narcissa Malfoy followed behind. “I’m sorry, Draco! He got away from me!” she exclaimed as she chased the baby.

            Scorpius laughed, bright green eyes sparkling, and sent out another burst of bright magic.

            I noticed then that the house and its contents seemed to be resistant to the baby’s magic. Either the house was warded with protection charms, or the explosions were of light and sound only.

            “Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy! Stop giving your grandmother trouble and come here this instant!” Draco ordered.

            The baby shook his head, pale blond hair flying back and forth, and took off in the other direction, heading out of the room.

            Draco chased after and caught the child before Narcissa could catch up.

            “Scorpius, you are being very naughty. Father needs you to stay with Grandmother. Why aren’t you down for your nap?” Draco asked the baby.

            “No nap!” Scorpius protested.

            “Yes nap,” Draco countered sternly. Then he looked to his mother, who having reached him, was waiting with a haggard expression on her face.

            “He didn’t want to go down. He wanted to play,” Narcissa explained.

            “Just keep him a little while longer, while I get rid of him,” Draco replied, handing the baby over to Narcissa.

            “All right. Scorpius, how about we find the broom Godfather Severus gave you?” Narcissa asked the child now in her arms.

            “Booom Booom!” Scorpius exclaimed happily.

            “Draco! I want to see him!” I exclaimed as Narcissa moved towards the door with my son.

            Draco stepped in my way, getting between me and his mother. “Well that’s too bad, isn’t it, because I am the only one here with any parental rights. That’s what happens when you leave me to care for a child on my own for two years. As it so happens, I don’t want you to meet _my_ son.”

            “Please Draco!” I begged, watching desperately as Narcissa walked away, carrying my precious baby.

            “No, Harry. I begged you once, but you didn’t care then. You did this, you live with it. Now please leave,” he said sternly.

            “But the contract,” I protested.

            “With my father, not me,” he countered. “I hope the two of you are very happy together. Now if you will excuse me, I am very busy being a single parent of a child with particularly strong accidental magic. That’s what happens when the magical core forms at conception.”

            And then he left, robes billowing as he swept from the room.

            Lucius entered the room and approached me. “Sorry about that, Harry. He’ll come around. Why don’t you go home and we’ll try him again tomorrow?” he asked.

            “Why didn’t you tell him!?!” I asked angrily.

            “Tell him what?” Lucius asked.

            “What you did! Why didn’t you tell him you kept us apart! This is all your fault!” I yelled.

            “I only did what had to be done, to protect him and the child,” Lucius replied.

            “You signed the contract. If you want us to marry, why don’t you tell him what an interfering bastard you are!?!” I asked.

            “Harry, please, you need to calm down. I know you are upset, but Draco will come around. Try back tomorrow,” Lucius replied.

            It clicked then. “This is about visitation! I refused to put in writing your visitation, so now you won’t admit what you did, because you need to stay on his good side. This is all about you, isn’t it? You don’t care if my son is hurt in the process, as long as you don’t lose your son!” I accused.

            Was that why my personal life was off-limits to Skeeter? Why Lucius had waited until I was about to reveal to Skeeter that he was keeping me and Draco apart, to show up and whisk me away? It had to be. He couldn’t have what he’d done in the papers, because he didn’t want Draco to blame him.

            “This visit has lasted long enough. Snotty!” Lucius called and the elf appeared. “Please remove Mr. Potter from the premise. He may check back tomorrow, but until then, I want the wards modified to keep him out.”

            The elf snapped his fingers and I was yanked out of the house by my naval. I landed on the sand outside, on the other side of the Fidelius. I tried to reenter the house, but although I now knew the secret, the wards on the house refused to let me in. I tried to tear them down. I screamed and raged at those wards. But eventually, I exhausted myself and admitted my defeat. There was no use in trying to get back in today. I would have to wait for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	20. Chapter 20

            I apparated back to the Malfoy’s home on the shore first thing the next morning and was relieved when the wards let me in.

            I knocked on the door and Snotty let me in, explaining, “Masters Draco and Scorpius, sirs, are in the dining room. Mistress Narcissa is gone.” He made a sweeping gesture to welcome me in.

            “Gone? Where’d she go?” I asked, entering.

            “To the Manor with Master Lucius, sir. She’s moving home, sir,” Snotty explained, leading the way to the dining room.

            The room in question opened up off of the end of the hall. It was a cozy looking room the shape of an octagon, with seven large windows letting in a gorgeous view of the sea on one side and a garden on the other. The eighth side held the large walkway, no door to bar my view in. Draco and Scorpius were there, just as Snotty had said. Scorpius was covered with orangish yellow mush, globs of it in his pale blond hair, smeared across his face, and coating his hands and bib.

            Draco spoke in a very sweet voice, “-your breakfast and not wear it, you silly Scorpion,” as he tackled the little hands with a washcloth.

            “Master Draco, sir, Harry Potter is here to see you, sir,” Snotty said, bowing his nose to the floor.

            “Harry Potter?” Draco sneered. “Who said to allow Harry Potter into the house?” Draco asked annoyed.

            “Master Lucius, sir. Snotty is sorry if Harry Potter is not wanted in the house, sir,” Snotty replied, quaking in fear.

            “Stop wasting my time by being _sorry_. Kick him out!” Draco shouted.

            Snotty began sniveling. “Snotty is s-s-sorry, Master Draco, sir. Master Lucius, sir, be ordering Snotty to let Harry Potter, sir, in the house today, sir.”

            “Master Lucius, huh? Master Lucius does not live here! Do as I command!” Draco ordered.

            “Master Lucius, sir, _owns_ Snotty and the house. Master Lucius, sir, commands Snotty not to kick Harry Potter out before half an hour is up, sir, even if Master Draco, sir, be commanding it, sir,” snotty said, violently pulling at his own ears.

            “Go away, Snotty,” Draco said in disgust.

            Snotty disappeared with a pop.

            “Bloody house elves. Bloody Father! And no Professor Snape to take my side anymore, thanks to you getting him killed. I don’t have _time_ for this now. I’m busy, Potter, or aren’t your glasses thick enough to see that?” Draco asked me angrily, washrag suspended midair.

            Scorpius started screaming, likely because of Draco’s tone. When he screamed, the air crackled with magic and the fires in the wall sconces flared up, sending smoke into the air.

            Snotty moved to put the fires out, preventing them from spreading, and then repaired the damaged wall-paper.

            “See what you’ve done, Potter? And I can’t even pick him up, because he’s still covered in apricot oatmeal,” Draco said, resuming his efforts to clean our crying son.

            “I’m sorry. What can I do to help?” I asked.

            “Go away,” Draco answered loudly, enunciating each syllable.

            “I’ll just…” I trailed off, pointing out the door.

            “You do that,” Draco replied, not paying me the least bit of attention.

            I walked down the hall until I found the sitting room I’d been in yesterday. I wasn’t about to leave the house, when Draco hadn’t expressly told me where to go, so I sat on the sofa and waited.

            Ten minutes later, a haggard looking Draco came in, a much cleaner Scorpius on his hip. He took one look at me and let out a sigh of exasperation. “Hasn’t it been half an hour yet? Snotty, remove the Potter,” he ordered.

            Snotty appeared with a pop, edges of his ears bleeding. “Snotty is being very sorry sir, but it has not been half an hour yet, sir. Snotty is punishing himself for you, sir,” Snotty answered, indicating his bloody ears by pulling on them.

            “Away with you. Go bleed somewhere else,” Draco replied to the elf, before turning and glaring at me. “I guess Scorpius can just have his milk in my room this morning. Stay in here, Potter, or I will file sexual harassment charges.” And with that, Draco carried Scorpius out the door.

            I went to the walkway and was just in time to see a door close on the other side of the hall. I went back to sitting on the sofa, wondering how much of my thirty minutes were to pass without Draco and Scorpius in the same room as me. And why wasn’t Scorpius having his milk in the dining room?

            Just under ten minutes later, Draco reappeared with Scorpius and set the baby down on the sitting room floor.

            “I have things to do, Potter. I don’t have time for whatever it is you want,” Draco said, rummaging around the room and gathering up dirty baby clothes. There wasn’t much, but he kept searching the room like something was missing.

            “I could help you,” I offered softly, hoping he wouldn’t be angered by my offer.

            “Sure. Why don’t you check under your arse and see if you are sitting on one of Scorpius’ socks? Then while you’re up, the door is that way,” Draco pointed back the way I’d come. “Please see yourself out. That would be a major help.”

            While he said the last, I got up and dug around in the sofa cushions, coming up with one teeny little light blue sock. “Is this it?” I asked, holding it up.

            “Yes!” Draco answered, angrily snatching it from me. “Now I can have Snotty wash his clothes, so I can get him dressed. Snotty!”

            Snotty reappeared, ears in worse shape than ever, and Draco ordered the elf to wash the small pile of clothes. With a snap of the elf’s fingers, the clothes were washed and folded.

            “Scorpius, time to get dressed!” Draco calling, moving towards Scorpius with the stack of clothes.

            Scorpius had been entertaining himself by ripping pages off a pad on the desk, kneeling on the desk chair to reach. He turned to Draco, then went back to tear off one more page, letting the remains of the last flutter to the floor.

            Draco scooped Scorpius up and said, “Snotty, mend the pad.”

            Snotty raised a hand and all of the pages, save the one in Scorpius’ little hand, flew up in the air, back over to the pad, and reannealed themselves.

            Draco sat down on the floor and removed Scorpius’ pajamas in coordination with Scorpius’ efforts to first get up, then throw the paper in Draco’s face, and then squirm, fuss, and set off the occasional burst of light. Then the pajamas were off and Draco handed the paper back to the baby, saying, “Here, tear it up for Father.”

            Scorpius took the paper and did as told, tearing it in two, then picking up one of the scraps and tearing that in two. He repeated the process, a smile on his face, while Draco removed first the socks on Scorpius’ feet, then the undershirt, and finally the nappy.

            I wanted to get a better look, because I wanted to know if our son was a boy like me, or a boy like Draco. But part of me realized that this was sort of creepy and a bigger part of me didn’t want to get in Draco’s way and be ejected from the house. Next time Draco asks the elf for my expulsion with the half an hour up, I’d be gone and who knew when I’d be allowed back. But if I could keep quiet, then maybe he’d forget about me and let me stay. Watching silently in the background was better than nothing.

            “Snotty, nappy,” Draco requested.

            With a snap of the elf’s fingers, there was a clean nappy in Draco’s hands, which he then fastened around the squirming butt of our son, without the aid of a wand. In fact, Draco hadn’t used a wand since I got here and I wondered why, but didn’t ask.

            “Now throw the pieces up in the air for Father,” Draco instructed Scorpius as he began to dress our baby.

            Scorpius did as told, throwing the pieces up. Then he regathered them and threw them again and again while Draco worked. First a white undershirt was removed from the pile of clean laundry and slipped over Scorpius’ head. Draco pushed the baby over gently, to get at snaps under the nappy, eliciting a squawk of protest from the child, before Scorpius righted himself, fists clenched with bits of paper. A blue shirt was added on top, then the child’s legs were manipulated into a tiny pair of tan trousers. Then it was just the two little socks in the pile.

            Draco held up the socks, one blue and one yellow, and exclaimed, “The blue one! Where’d you find the blue one, Potter? I need the other blue one or I need the other yellow one.”

            “It was in the sofa. I’ll look,” I said, quickly rummaging through the cushions for any signs of tiny socks, but finding none.

            “Master Draco, sir?” Snotty asked hesitantly.

            “What, Snotty?” Draco asked.

            “Snotty be putting the other blue one in the pile of socks with no mates, sir. Should Snotty be fetching it, sir?” the elf asked trembling.

            “Yes, Snotty!” Draco exclaimed exasperated.

            Scorpius threw two handfuls of paper scraps in Draco’s face and made his attempt to escape, giggling with delight.

            Snotty snapped his fingers and another blue sock appeared.

            Draco reached out with one long arm, grabbed the child by a bare foot, causing Scorpius to let off a burst of light and sound in a last-ditched effort to get away. But Draco had a hold of Scorpius and he held on through the magical distraction. Then Draco pulled the baby back to him by the ankle and said playfully, “Oh no you don’t. Father hasn’t got your shoes on yet.”

            Scorpius cried and Draco soothed the child, taking the sock from the elf. Scorpius quieted down as Draco slipped the two blue socks onto the little feet.

            “There, it’s like having all new socks again, isn’t my Scorpion? I haven’t seen these in over a month,” Draco said to the baby, taking him in his arms and standing up. “Now to find your shoes. Snotty, where are Master Scorpius’ shoes?”

            I wondered then whether Scorpius had enough clothes. They were nice clothes, in good condition, but there didn’t seem to be much of them. Draco had made it sound as if there was only one pair of blue socks and one pair of yellow socks in the house. And every piece of baby clothing that Draco had picked up from the sitting room and had Snotty clean, except the one yellow sock, was now on our son. These clothes had obviously been worn recently. Wouldn’t it be easier to wait a few days and then gather up all the laundry, instead of doing it every morning? The only reason I could think to do it this way, was if this was the only set of clothes the baby had.

            I thought back to my visit yesterday. I knew exactly what Draco and Scorpius had been wearing, because the image of my first sight of my son was burned into my brain. I would never forget it. It wasn’t the blue shirt and tan trousers that Scorpius was wearing now, but a set of baby robes. So, Scorpius had at least two outfits; three, if I counted the pajamas.

            “In the mudroom, sir. Snotty be fetching them now,” Snotty said. With another snap, the same shoes from yesterday appeared in midair in front of Draco.

            Draco grabbed the shoes up out of the air and sat down on the desk chair, to put them on the child in his lap. Then he let Scorpius go.

            Scorpius instantly took off, clomping on the wood floor. “Go, go, go!” he shouted as he went. Draco ran after. Snotty followed.

            I got up, going to the doorway to see what was going on, but staying back and out of the way, fearful of being kicked out.

            Scorpius ran into the mudroom and although I couldn’t see him, I could hear him banging on the door. Then I heard the door open and Draco’s voice asking, “What do you want to play first?”

            I moved closer, hovering in the middle of the hallway, so I could see Draco follow Scorpius outside.

            “Kyke!” A long pause. “Kyke?” Another pause. “Bad elf!” Scorpius exclaimed, somewhere out on the walkway.

            “Snotty, where’s Scorpius’ trike?” Draco ordered.

            “Master Lucius, sir, be ordering Snotty to be putting Master Scorpius’ trike away, sir. Snotty be putting it in the basement, because Master Draco, sir, said not to put the outside toys in the house, sir,” Snotty answered.

            “The basement? It’s full of cobwebs down there! If you’ve ruined his trike, because of something my father said, when he doesn’t even live here, I’ll have your hide!” Draco threatened.

            “Snotty is s-s-sorry, Master Draco, sir,” Snotty said crying.

            “Fetch the trike, Snotty,” Draco ordered.

            Snotty snapped his fingers and the trike appeared, shinier than the day before. It looked like the elf had cleaned it.

            “Kyke!” Scorpius exclaimed, running over to the tricycle. He confirmed its presence by running his hands over the shiny red metal. He even leaned in and kissed it. Then he turned and ran right up to Snotty. “Elf bad! Elf no take Kyke!”

            “Snotty is so s-s-sorry, sir,” Snotty said sobbing.

            And then Scorpius’ tiny pointy little face softened, abandoning the harsh facial expressions Draco favored. He reached a comforting hand out to the elf and said, “No cry,” in a soft, concerned voice.

            Snotty sniffed and replied, “Yes, Master Scorpius, sir.”

            “Sshh. It OK. We go, go, go,” Scorp explained kindly, patting the elf gently.

            I was proud of my son then. He wasn’t even one and a half and he already had more compassion than Lucius. He’d obviously learned from Draco to mistreat Snotty, but at the signs of distress from the elf, he’d treated Snotty like an actual person. I longed to run out there, take Scorpius in my arms, and praise what a kind, thoughtful boy he was. But I dared not leave the mudroom.

            “Yes, Master Scorpius, sir. We be going now,” Snotty replied.

            “Snotty, go clean the house,” Draco ordered.

            Snotty disappeared.

            A scowl formed on Scorpius’ face at the sudden absence of elf under his hand. “My elf!” he demanded of Draco.

            “Yes, your elf. Now ride your trike. Where are we going today?” Draco asked, giving the horn on the tricycle a squeeze, making a honking noise.

            Scorpius forgot about the missing elf and ran to the tricycle, climbing on. I thought he’d petal away, but instead his little feet pushed on the ground to scoot the toy forward, like in the old Flintstone cartoons. He didn’t go very fast, but he went with a call of, “Wadder!”

            Scorpius scooted down to the water and Draco followed. When Draco reached the sand toys, he called out, “Scorpius, don’t you want to build a sandcastle with me?” and sat down in the sand to do just that.

            Scorpius continued scooting along to the end of the path, but got the tricycle stuck in the sand at the end.

            “Scorpius, look, my sandcastle is going to be so high! All the way up to the sky!” Draco said, scooping more sand onto the pile growing in front of him.

            “Yay!” Scorpius exclaimed, ditching the tricycle and running over to join Draco in the sand.

            I watched the two play together. Draco grew the castle bigger. Scorpius tried to pile buckets of sand on top, but when each ill-placed bucket dumped sand in the wrong place, he loudly proclaimed, “Uh oh!” and started again.

            After a time, a seagull landed on top of the mass of sand and squawked, it’s weight collapsing one side of the, “castle”.

            Scorpius cried at the bird. The air crackled with magic and the bird flew away. Draco picked the baby up and comforted the child sweetly. Draco wasn’t half bad at this parenting thing. His treatment of the elf could’ve been better, but he clearly loved Scorpius.

            Within five minutes, Scorpius wiggled free of Draco’s grasp and ran off to pick up a stick, which he then examined.

            Just as the baby moved to put the stick in his mouth, Draco ran up, shouting, “Uh uh! No. Don’t you dare put that in your mouth, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!”

            Scorpius threw the stick at Draco and ran with an excited shriek towards the shore, little legs lifting impossibly high to run over uneven sand.

            The next object to catch the baby’s attention was a shell that had washed up along the shore. He bent down and picked it up, carefully feeling the complex shape with his little fingers.

            “Let Father check it for hermit crabs first, Scorpius,” Draco said. Scorpius held up the shell and Draco looked inside. “Okay, you can have it. Must be the first one in ages without a crab in it.”

            Scorpius shouted in excitement and took off with his shell, once more in the direction of the water. This time he ran straight into the receding water, getting his little shoes drenched wet in the process. Then a wave came up and although it was only a very small wave, it knocked him on his butt, getting his trousers and shirt soaked too. Scorpius laughed and splashed merrily in the water.

            Draco sat down just beyond the water and watched, letting our son play.

            At ten thirty sharp, an alarm sounded from Draco’s pocket watch. He took it out of his breast pocket, deactivated it, and stood up, announcing, “Come on, Scorp. It’s bath time and then we can have lunch.”

            “Noooooooooo!” Scorpius shouted and then began to scream when Draco scooped him up.

            “Where’d your shell go?” Draco asked, looking around the water at his feet as Scorpius continued to cry and scream. “Oh well. I suppose we will see it tomorrow with a new crab inside.”

            Draco carried the crying child toward the house, so I ducked back into the hallway and ran back into the sitting room.

            Sure enough, Draco plopped the soaking wet baby down on the floor in the sitting room and began to strip off the wet clothes, without even noticing me. I tried to make myself unseen, as I blended into a corner of the room, observing just how it was that the morning clothing was scattered about the room by a combination of Scorpius’ tantrum over being removed from the water and Draco’s efforts to remove the wet clothing.

            As soon as he was naked and allowed to run around, Scorpius forgot his displeasure over the change in activity. He gleefully ran around the room, stopping to pick up anything that caught his eye, including toys, books, and Draco’s shiny quill.

            Draco grabbed Scorpius up into his arms, when the baby’s outstretched hand was only millimeters away from the quill. “It’s time for your bath and some milk. Come on,” Draco said, carrying Scorpius out of the room.

            I was left alone in the sitting room with my thoughts as I heard the water running in the next room. I’d seen Scorpius naked. He’d been running around the room, tiny little penis flapping as he went. Other than Draco’s, it was the smallest penis I’d ever seen. Granted, I hadn’t seen any other babies naked. I also hadn’t studied Draco’s penis when soft. I couldn’t be sure which, if either, was bigger. It was a definite possibility that they were the same size. And although I didn’t know how Scorpius compared to other babies, I found myself feeling slightly relieved that he would probably grow up to be bigger than Draco. After all, those things grew.

            But I was still alone, with nothing better to do than to think. I soon found myself doubting whether relief was the right thing to feel. What if Draco and I had a child with his condition? I wouldn’t love that child any less. I couldn’t consider such a child any less of a boy, could I? I’d have to treat him the same as any other boy, just as Draco had wanted to be treated like all the other boys. It didn’t matter what was between the child’s legs. All that mattered was that he was my child.

            Eventually, I heard the water shut off. I looked out the hallway just in time to see Draco, clothed only in a towel, exiting the loo with a towel-bundled Scorpius in his arms, both still wet. They went into one of the other doors off the hallway, that I dared not enter. I heard Draco saying something about a nappy and then milk. Several long minutes passed and then Draco called Snotty to look after Scorpius.

            I saw Draco coming back out of the room, and I ducked behind the door to the sitting room, so that he wouldn’t see me. I peeked around the sitting room door, just in time to see the door next to Scorpius’ door, close.

            Assuming Draco was getting dressed, I snuck across to the room Scorpius was in. It was a nursery. There was a changing table, a crib, and a dresser, but most of the room was filled with toys. Scorpius was running from toy to toy wearing only his fresh nappy.

            “Where are his clothes?” I asked Snotty, who was running after Scorpius.

            “Master Scorpius, sir’s, clothing be in the hamper,” Snotty replied, without missing a beat in his game with my son.

            “Are they dirty?” I asked, going to the hamper and retrieving a black set of baby robes from amidst a pile of soiled nappies.

            “Yes, of course, sir,” Snotty answered.

            “Could you clean them?” I asked.

            “Yes, of course, sir,” Snotty answered again. He paused in his game to snap his fingers, instantly cleaning the robes from yesterday.

            I tried to intercept Scorpius, aiming to get him dressed for Draco, but the child evaded me. I followed, but this was not the laughing game of chase Scorpius had played with Snotty. Scorpius screamed in fear as he ran and let out a sudden burst of darkness, like Peruvian Instant Darkness powder. I stopped, wondering what I was doing wrong. As the darkness cleared, I made out the shape of the baby’s shoes disappearing under his crib. He turned around, peered out at me with scared green eyes, and then ducked his head back into the shadows. Then I saw little hands doing their best to pull toys in front of him, hiding himself behind his toys. I lay down flat on the floor and watched Scorpius stack a neat row of blocks in front of him, like a wall. The first row of blocks went up perfectly, but not the second. Every time the baby tried to place a block on top of the others, it would fall down. He tried several times, before he started crying and then sobbing.

            I didn’t know what I’d done wrong, but I wasn’t about to leave my son sobbing and hiding away underneath his crib. I made gentle shushing noises, reached an arm in, and gently but firmly, pulled the little boy out.

            I hugged Scorpius to my chest and said, “There, there. Everything’s going to be fine. Daddy didn’t mean to scare you. Are you alright?”

            “Fadder,” Scorpius said with a whimper, arm stretched out towards the door.

            “I know, you want your father. He’s coming right back. How about we get you dressed and then you can go play?” I asked.

            Scorpius nodded, snuffling a snob and wiping his nose with his little arm. I cradled him in my lap and began the process of getting the robes over his head. It was harder than Draco had made it look. I got it over Scorpius’ head, but then he managed an escape, using his fake explosion trick. I got him back and got an arm in each sleeve. Exhausted at the effort of getting just the robes in place, I let Scorpius go.

            Scorpius picked up a wooden toy, plopped his bottom on the floor, wiped his eyes, and began to play.

            I worried that I’d scared him and that he’d hate me now. I worried that his reaction to me, was the result of Draco’s negative reaction to me. I worried that Draco would come back into the room and ask what I’d done to the baby. But I also worried about why Scorpius only had the one set of robes. Unlike the other worries, the last was something I could do something about.

            “Snotty?” I asked.

            “Yes, Harry Potter, sir?” Snotty asked in return.

            “Does Master Scorpius have other clothes?” I asked.

            “Yes, Harry Potter, sir.”

            “Where are they, Snotty?”

            “In the dresser, sir. And in the hamper, sir. And in the sitting room, sir,” Snotty answered.

            I knew that the clothes in the sitting room were just the wet ones from the morning and that the ones in the hamper were mostly soiled nappies. The only thing I didn’t know, was what was in the dresser.

            I was inspecting the sparse contents of Scorpius’ dresser when Draco came back in and asked with a sneer, “What are you doing here, Potter?”

            “I was getting Scorpius dressed,” I said, holding up a long-sleeved undershirt. I’d forgotten the undershirt and once I saw the small stack of them in the dresser, realized my mistake. I’d gone to all that work getting the robes on, only to realize I’d have to start over.

            “And you are clearly accustomed to putting the undershirt on top of the robes, I see that. But what I don’t understand, is why you are in _my_ house?” he asked tersely.

            I felt a momentary relief as I looked at Scorpius and saw no signs of the earlier distress I’d cause. With any luck, Draco wouldn’t know our baby was scared of me. “I never left. I thought I’d help. I’ll fix his robes. I could get him dressed for you,” I offered.

            “No, you cannot,” Draco replied sternly.

            “Why not?” I asked. “You could have some time to yourself. You’ve been doing everything all morning. Why can’t I help?”

            “One, because he’s my son, not yours. And two, because those are his winter undershirts. They’re too hot. He needs the summer one that’s in the hamper,” he said, going to the hamper to fetch a dirty short-sleeved undershirt and a pair of green socks. Then he ordered Snotty to clean them, which the elf did.

            “Why doesn’t he have more clothes, Draco?” I asked gently. I couldn’t accuse, because I hadn’t been here.

            I’d gone through every drawer in that dresser and only the top two contained clothes big enough for our son. The rest of the dresser was filled with clothes that were too small; every size, from only just too small, right down to newborn.

            In the first drawer, there was a stack of long-sleeved undershirt next to exactly one clean short-sleeved undershirt that looked brand new, never worn. On the other side of the drawer, was a small pile of mismatched socks, including the yellow sock from this morning, next to one new looking white pair. Behind the socks and undershirts, were two heavily stained pairs of pajamas. The second drawer contained one shirt with a hole, one shirt with a large stain, and one brand new shirt, tags still on. Next to that were two pairs of trousers in bad condition, along with one brand new pair. There were two outfits worth of stuff that even I wouldn’t put on my kid and one brand new outfit, clearly being saved for a time when it was necessary to impress someone.

            “Because my parents thought making me make-do without would teach me not to sleep around again. I have to buy all of our clothing out of my allowance and Scorpius destroys it as fast as I can buy it,” he answered, cheeks blushing self-consciously. “But don’t get all righteous on me, because Mother makes sure he has everything he could want. Not what he needs, just what he wants. And Professor Snape likes to spoil him by showing up with things like trikes and brooms at every visit. The house if overflowing with toys, if you haven’t noticed.”

            I nodded. There was no shortage of toys, but necessities were another story. I looked more closely and realized that that was even more true of Draco.

            Draco’s robes were far too short, a tad tight, and bordering on threadbare, especially at the sleeve cuffs. They were the same robes he’d had back in fourth year, but he was a grown man now and needed new ones. He’d obviously gone without, so that he could provide for Scorpius.

            “What about the money I give you. I know yesterday you said you haven’t gotten it, but it’s there. Could you buy him everything he needs now?” I asked kindly.

            Draco shook his head. “I don’t know how to access that money and I don’t have time to find out. Scorpius has enough clothes for today. I’ll figure it out when my mother comes back and can watch him,” he said.

            “I could buy him some clothes. I should buy him clothes. It’s my responsibility to do it,” I said.

            “Whatever, Potter. I don’t have time for you. We’re running late. Scorpius has to get dressed and eat lunch, so that he can go down for his nap on time,” Draco said, dismissing me and capturing Scorpius in his arms.

            The robes came off, the undershirt went on, and then the robes were replaced. The green socks were slipped on the little feet. Finally, the elf was ordered to fetch and clean the little shoes from earlier, which were then put on, completing the outfit.

            “Lunch time! Run to the dining room, Scorp,” Draco said releasing our son, who eagerly took off down the hall, but got sidetracked to play with the statue in the middle of said hall.

            Then Draco turned back to me and said, “Farewell, Potter. Please leave now, before I have my elf throw you out.”

            I nodded and said, “I’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think of Scorpius? Please Review!


	21. Chapter 21

            When I left, I went to Diagon Alley, heading towards Madam Malkins and got mobbed by the public, reminding me exactly why war heroes weren’t allowed in public. I ran away from them and ended up ducking into George’s shop for cover.

            “Use the floo in the back! Run, Harry!” Ron shouted from behind the counter.

            George was standing there next to Ron, looking as miserable as ever now that Fred had died in the war. George and Fred were some of the first on our side to respond to the fighting and come to my aid, because they lived and worked right there in Diagon Alley. They’d saved our lives, but at the cost of Fred’s. Now George didn’t know what to do with himself and Ron was stepping in to make sure the joke shop got ran.

            “Thanks!” I called, ducking into the back room, just as the mob followed me into the store.

            I could hear Ron’s voice as he moved to sell the mob gag items. I hurriedly found the floo powder and flooed to Twilfitt and Tattings, sure that my original destination of Madam Malkins had been found out. The mob would return there as soon as they realized I’d escaped. But I still needed clothes for Scorpius and the only other clothing store in Diagon Alley popped into my head as the obvious solution.

            “Jennifer, is that you?” a witch called out from the front of the store shortly after I popped out of the fireplace in the back.

            “No, madam,” I called back.

            “Customers aren’t allowed to floo directly into the store. Please use the front entrance,” the voice called back, getting nearer. Then she opened the door, looked me up and down, and gasped. “Harry Potter? Whatever are you doing in my store?”

            “I’d like to buy some clothes, but I’ve been mobbed. Could I just wait here until your other customers leave?” I asked. I felt like an arse for suggesting it, but how else was I to buy any clothes?

            “Let me get rid of them. Give me a moment,” the witch said, turning around and shutting the door behind her.

            I put my ear to the door and listened, hearing the shop owner quite clearly kicking customers out of her shop.

            Then she called for me, “Auror Potter, you can come out now. I’ve locked up the shop and closed the curtains.”

            “Thank you. I’m sorry for being such a bother. In the future, please don’t turn out the customers who are already shopping. I can wait,” I said, coming into the front of the store.

            “Nonsense. What can I help you with?”

            “Um, baby clothes. For my son. Scorpius. He’s about this big,” I said, bending down to indicate where Scorpius’ little head came up to on me.

            “Your son? I wasn’t aware you had a son. Aren’t you a little young?” she asked.

            “Um…yeah. I had him at fifteen. I kept it under wraps, because Voldemort would have tried to kill him if anyone knew. But now I don’t have to worry about that and I’d like to buy him a new wardrobe. The works,” I said. “And. Er…is there any way you could keep this between just the two of us?”

            “Naturally. Twilfitt and Tattings in known for being the most _discrete_ clothing shop in Wizarding Britain. I will inform my brother, Mr. Tatting, that you are now one of our customers. He’s my business partner, after all. Our parents left us this shop. He’ll need to know to expect you to floo into the back. But if you are worried about him knowing about the baby, we can just say the clothes are for one of your friends’ children. Do you have any friends with children?” she asked.

            “Um…There’s probably a kid in the Weasley family, if I look hard enough,” I offered.

            “Excellent. Excellent. Now that that’s settled, all I need to know is how old your son is,” she concluded.

            “Of course. He was born the March before last, so that makes him…” I counted off months in my mind. “Sixteen months, I think.”

            “So size eighteen months, then? If I had his measurements, I could make the clothes exactly to size and add in a little bit of room to grow. But if you don’t know them, the pre-cut clothes are generally a good fit,” she said, going to a bin full of little robes and pulling out a red set that looked about the right size.

            “I don’t know them. This should be good. And give me the blue ones too.” She pulled out a blue set. “But, um, don’t you have shirts and trousers? And pajamas?” I asked.

            “For babies? We have robes and nightgowns. The linen store sells nappies. Typically, grandmothers knit socks, sweaters, bonnets, and blankets, but there is a shop that sells them. That’s all you need,” she answered.

            I remembered back to the dresser in Scorpius’ room and realized then that most of the clothes had been Muggle. The shoes looked wizard-made, especially because they’d been fine in the water, and the robes were wizard too, but the rest was Muggle.

            “Er, then just the two robes,” I said, not knowing if Draco would prefer more, but figuring three was a good start and that I could always come back.

            The seamstress went on to tell me the properties of these robes, explaining that they were stain proof, tear proof, and guaranteed to last long enough to be outgrown by my son. That sounded perfect to me, but it came at a cost: they were expensive. That probably explained why Draco only had one set.

            I paid for them with my own money. Yes, I’d had money set aside for stuff like this, but Draco hadn’t touched it yet and I wasn’t going to touch it first. Draco had sacrificed his allowance to provide for our son for the last two years; the least I could do was use some of the money Sirius left me to buy a few sets of robes.

            Since the robes were pre-made, I was able to apparate out of the store with them. I had to make a stop by Gringotts to exchange a few galleons for pounds. That was uncomfortable, because the Goblins never stopped glaring at me, clearly remembering my recent break-in and the destruction of their property. Merlin, there was still a dragon-shaped hole in their roof, so I couldn’t exactly blame them. That’s why I kept the transaction limited to an exchange, instead of asking to stop by my vault to get some more money.

            Next I visited a Muggle shop and was overwhelmed with the options available for babies. There was too much, so I focused on trying to get exactly the same as Draco had at home for Scorpius. I found shirts that pulled over little heads, trousers held up with elastic, packages of little short-sleeved undershirts with more in them than Scorpius owned, packages of tiny little socks, and one-piece pajamas that zipped up the front. I bought enough for a week.

            Then I remembered that they lived on the shore and Scorpius liked to play in the water. He needed swim clothes, because his regular clothes would last longer, if he wasn’t swimming in them. I went to the swim section and picked out three pairs of trunks, one little sunshirt, and a big floppy sunhat. I would’ve gotten more, but I didn’t know how often Scorpius went swimming or whether he and Draco would like the Muggle swim-clothes. In fact, I didn’t know if Draco would think my taste horrid and want to return it all, so I kept the receipt.

            Finally, I returned to Draco’s house on the shore and knocked on the door.

            Snotty answered. “It is being naptime. My masters, sirs, is being asleep,” the elf said by way of greeting.

            “Draco too?” I asked.

            “Yes, sir.” The elf nodded emphatically. “Snotty will be getting in trouble if either of the masters is being woken up, sir.”

            “Okay, I’ll go. Can I come back tomorrow?” I asked.

            “Master Lucius is saying Harry Potter is being allowed over for one half-hour every day, sir,” Snotty answered.

            I practically leapt for joy, despite being weighed down by all my purchases, at that news. Draco may not want me to come back, but I could and I would.

            “Here, um, just let me get you some pajamas for Scorpius for tonight and then I’ll go,” I said, digging around in one of my many bags.

            I produced a pair of sunshine yellow pajamas covered in stars and handed them to the elf. I almost thought better of it, because this pair was a tad girly with the stars and I didn’t want Draco to start off thinking I had bad taste. I only got it, because I knew how much he liked astronomy and because Scorpius was named after a constellation. I would have preferred to give them the more masculine pairs first, but they weren’t on the top of the bag and the yellow ones were. I almost started taking everything out of the bags to look for the cool grey pair with the silver snakes, when I thought better of it, because I didn’t want to make too much noise and wake them. Instead, I regathered my things, told myself that they’d have to be content with the yellow pajamas for tonight, and left. I’d give them the rest of the clothes tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Review!


	22. Chapter 22

            I showed up slightly earlier the next morning, laden with my bags of shopping, and caught Draco in the midst of feeding Scorpius orange mush that could have been oatmeal. Whatever it was, Scorpius was covered in the mess, obviously taking issue with Draco doing the feeding, because he kept grabbing the spoon out of Draco’s hand, so that he could splatter it on himself. Draco would then pick up another spoon from a tray full of clean baby spoons and repeat the process, with Scorpius throwing the used spoon on the floor, where it would quickly vanish.

            Scorpius was wearing the yellow star pajamas I’d left yesterday and that made my heart flutter and a big goofy smile plaster itself on my face. Maybe I wasn’t doing everything wrong.

            “Erm, Draco?” I asked, wondering whether or not it would be best to make my presence known.

            “What?” he asked petulantly. “Why are you back here?”

            “I bought Scorpius some clothing. Er…shall I just put them in the sitting room or the nursery?” I asked.

            Draco groaned. “Now really is not a good time. In fact, all this week is a rotten time. My mother has gone on vacation with my father, to make up for their separation during the war, so I have no one to help me with Scorpius. I really don’t have time to deal with you on top of all of that.”

            Scorpius screamed in protest at no longer being fed.

            “But I could help. I could watch Scorpius or I could sort the new clothes and put them away,” I offered.

            Scorpius reached out his hand and used wandless magic to float the bowl of oatmeal over to him, out of Draco’s grasp. He then dug in and began feeding himself with his last spoon and by that, I mean mostly dumping it down the front of his bib.

            “Scorpius, you are making this very hard for Father. You need to get some of that into your tummy,” Draco said to our son, pulling on the bowl.

            Scorpius fought Draco, two hands firmly gripping the bowl.

            Draco sighed and gave up, “Fine, I’ll just have Snotty make another bowl and clean up this mess.” Then he turned to me. “There is more that has to be done with new clothes. I have to sort through them, to make sure they are all the right size. Those pajamas, by the way, are a little large. He won’t be in that size for another two months. Then tags have to be removed and Snotty has to wash everything and fold it. Then everything needs to be taken out of his dresser and reorganized, to make all that fit, assuming all those bags are filled with clothes for him, that is.”

            “I can help. I can watch Scorpius while you inspect the clothes. I can take the clothes back and get a smaller size, because they’re all this size. And then once the new ones have been inspected and cleaned, I can organize the dresser. I’m good at chores. I’d love to do this, if you’ll just let me,” I replied.

            At this point, Scorpius had picked up his bowl and was slurping the oatmeal, like it was tea. Most of it seemed to be getting into Scorpius’ mouth, so it was probably the most efficient solution yet to the feeding problem.

            Draco turned back to our baby, noticed the slurping, and grabbed the bowl away, despite the crying protest Scorpius made. “Malfoys are civilized wizards. We do not slurp our food like barbarians. We eat with spoons. And if you cannot manage a bit of grownup food, you can nurse for the rest of your breakfast.” Then he ordered Snotty to vanish the bowl and provide a wet washcloth, and began to clean a crying Scorpius up.

            Draco huffed in exasperation, before turning back to me. “As you can see, I do not have time now. Scorpius has a schedule to keep. After breakfast, we go outside to play. Then it’s bath time, then lunchtime, then naptime, then snack time. You may come back with the clothes after snack time, before dinner time,” he said.

            “When’s that?” I asked.

            “Three thirty, sharp. You may have your half an hour and then you will leave,” he answered.

            “Alright, but if you are going to take him swimming this morning, perhaps you could put him in one of the swimming sets I bought?” I asked, holding out a bag that I’d organized to only contain swim clothes, figuring that this would be the first thing they’d need.

            Draco took the bag and started pulling out the clothes. “I don’t know what these are. I’ve seen them in the Muggle store, but this fabric is strange. These are for swimming, you say?” he asked.

            “Yes. Just try a set. If you like them, I’ll buy more. If not, I’ll take these ones back,” I said.

            He nodded. “Leave me one set and take the rest. I don’t have time right now. I have to nurse Scorpius, now that you’ve ruined his breakfast,” he said, handing me back the bag.

            “You nurse him?” I asked, wondering if that was the reason Draco had taken Scorpius into a room yesterday morning for milk and ordered me to stay in the sitting room.

            “Yes, of course. Now go away. Please?” he asked, almost nicely.

            “All right. I’ll go. The clothes will just be in the sitting room,” I said.

            I turned and went down the hall. In the sitting room, I sat out the coolest pair of swim shorts, which were covered in dragons, the one plain swim shirt, and the floppy sunhat. Then I gathered up the rest of the bags and left.

            I went back to the Burrow, where I’d been sharing a room with Ron since the end of the war. The room was small and my shopping thrown on the bed made it downright cramped. But George, Percy, and Charlie were back home, so the house was full and I didn’t mind. I only hoped Ron wouldn’t get sick of sharing with me, especially because my pile of possessions seemed to be accumulating since the war.

            Ron was just getting dressed for the day. “You’re back? I thought we were well rid of you and your bags of baby clothes,” he teased, putting his socks and shoes on.

            “I’ve been kicked out until three-thirty. The good news about that is, I get to have your mum’s cooking for breakfast. What do you think she’s making today?” I asked.

            “Pancakes. George asked for pancakes and poor Georgy gets whatever poor Georgy wants. But that’s no matter, because Mum makes the best pancakes,” he answered, standing up. “Come on, let’s see who else is up.”

            Ron and I went downstairs to find that Ginny and Hermione were helping Molly with the pancakes. Hermione too had been staying here since the war, because she’d sent her parents away and they hadn’t moved back yet.

            The first thing the girls asked was what had happened this morning with Draco. I told them.

            “Well that’s a good sign! He’s asked you to come back later,” Hermione concluded.

            “It is a good sign. Perhaps I should bake you some of my muffins to take them,” Molly said.

            “Definitely make muffins, Mum, please. I’m begging you. Make the muffins. If Harry’s family won’t eat them, I will,” Ron said.

            Harry’s family…I got stuck on those words. Were they my family? I wanted them to be, but Draco seemed to have a different opinion on the issue.

            Soon we were all sitting down to a batch of some of the most delicious pancakes I’d ever tasted in my life. Then Percy and Arthur went off to work at the Ministry, Ginny took George to the joke shop, and Charlie and Molly left to run errands for Fred’s upcoming funeral. That left Ron, Hermione, and me with the house to ourselves for a chat. I filled them in on Draco’s not wanting to be with me, but Hermione said I had to hang in there and win Draco over with my persistence. Ron, never a huge Draco fan, did concede that I had to play it Hermione’s way, if I was ever to get my son back.

 

* * *

  


            I arrived right on time to Draco’s house, muffins in hand on top of the bags of shopping. Once again Snotty let me in and led me to the nursery, where Draco was on the floor with Scorpius, showing the baby how to stack blocks.

            Scorpius added a block to the tower, making it collapse. He shrugged, palms up and out, as he exclaimed, “Uh oh!”

            “It’s not to worry, my Scorpion. You’ll get it soon,” Draco encouraged. “We just have to keep trying.

            “Um…Is this a bad time? Only you said to come at three thirty and it’s three thirty,” I said, indicating the bags that were once again slung over my arms and the muffins in my hands. I’d been worried Molly wouldn’t have time to make them, but she’d come back and whipped up a batch. They were still steaming, too hot to eat.

            “It’s as good as it gets, I guess. What is that you’ve brought now?”

            “Muffins, made by Molly Weasley. For you and Scorpius,” I explained.

            “Scorpius can’t have much table food. He’s a baby. And I’m not allowed to eat anything that tastes good, because I’m nursing. But muffins are Snotty’s favorite,” Draco replied to me, then turned to the elf. “Snotty! Take the muffins away!”

            Snotty made the muffins disappear with the snap of his fingers.

            “Scorpius, are you ready for a Malfoy fashion show?” Draco asked.

            Scorpius didn’t respond, too busy playing.

            “All right, Potter. What did you buy?” Draco asked.

            I set the bags down and began to pull out the items. Draco immediately went for the two sets of robes, picking them out of the pile.

            “These are the same as the ones Professor Snape bought Scorpius, that day he came with the magical shoes. They’re really expensive! I could never afford a pair. How much money did you leave in my account?” he asked.

            I looked down, rubbing the back of my neck. “Erm, all of it. I used the money my godfather, Sirius Black, left me to buy these. He would’ve wanted Scorpius to have nice things,” I said.

            “So, all of my money is still there?” he asked.

            I nodded.

            “Good, but don’t think you can replace Snape as Scorpius’ godfather. I still blame you for Snape’s death,” Draco said.

            “I would change things so that he lived, if I could,” I replied. I would find some way to save Fred too, if it were possible.

            “Scorpius, come try these on,” Draco called.

            Scorpius was still busy with his blocks and whined at being picked up and redressed, clutching a block in each hand all the while. The robes fit okay. They were a little long, but Draco ordered Snotty to perform a reversible spell that shortened them. Then they were just a little wide and billowy, but that was the fashion right now, so they’d do.

            Next came the shirts, a few of which had patterns Draco liked. They were all a little big, but wearable. The pajamas were the same; a little too big, but usable. The trousers were another story, all being way too long.

            “You’ll have to take the trousers back and get the smaller size. Maybe not so many though, because he’s been in this size for a while and might grow soon,” Draco said, setting the trousers aside. “We had the same problem with the swim shorts: they fell right down his little bum when he got in the water. Those will have to go back as well. And the swim shirt didn’t match.”

            “Yeah, um, I was thinking I’d just buy a few smaller ones and save these big ones for when he grows, if the styles and patterns are all right,” I said sheepishly.

            “Fine, but that swim shirt you bought still doesn’t match the swim shorts you gave me,” he replied.

            I explained then that Muggles often didn’t put swim shirts on boys at all, so there weren’t matching sets. There were just plain shirts and brightly colored bottoms. To demonstrate this, I pulled out the remainder of the swim shorts.

            “Well the black shirt could go with this other pair with the snakes, but we need a red shirt to go with the red dragons from this morning and a green shirt to go with the frogs. And then these are all too big and I don’t know if it will even still be warm enough to swim when he’s in the larger size,” Draco said.

            I agreed to exchange the swim clothes for smaller ones and made a mental note to pay more attention to matching the tops with the bottoms.

            Once the clothes were sorted, Draco ordered Snotty to wash the clothes Scorpius could use now and set me to work cleaning out the dresser. The old clothes were tossed into a burlap sack and sent to the attic, because Scorpius didn’t have a trunk. The new clothes that didn’t fit yet, were stored in the bottom drawer.

            I needed to make another shopping trip and told Draco so.

            “Yes, go,” he replied.

            “Can I come back?” I asked.

            “At three thirty tomorrow. Now we need to get going, or Scorp won’t settle down for his evening nap,” Draco replied.           

            I left Draco’s house in a bloody good mood, because Draco had just agreed that I could come back. But then my first stop was into Wizarding Britain, to buy a pair of magical trunks with non-detectable extension charms on them—one to store Scorpius’ old clothes and another to store the clothes he wasn’t big enough for yet—and I got mobbed. I barely made it out of there with my purchases at all.

            I was in a somewhat foul mood as I deposited the trunks in Ron’s room. But, my mood was slightly lifted when Hermione and Luna offered to go with me to the Muggle store, Luna having stopped over to chat with Hermione while I was away.

            Together we exchanged the swim clothes for smaller matching sets, buying two more swim shirts to make outfits. Then we picked out three smaller pairs of trouser and three smaller shirts. I thought that was good enough, but Hermione asked about socks and bibs and then decided that the one package of socks I’d purchased yesterday was insufficient and that zero bibs was unequivocally the wrong number to buy. She and Luna rectified the problem, by picking out two more packages of socks and then reading the sayings on every bib in the store and discussing whether Draco would like them.

            Right when I was tired of shopping, Hermione and Luna found the toy department and went a little bit mad. I informed them that Scorpius had all the toys he needed, but they said a baby could never have too many toys and that they wanted to buy my son something for themselves. Tired, I left them to it and rang up my purchase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Draco is feeling a growing resentment towards his father. Lucius has done a lot of shitty things over the years. If you were Draco, which would you be most upset about? Please Review!


	23. Chapter 23

            The next morning, I received an owl.

 

_Dear Auror Potter,_

_I am sorry that things are not working out between you and my son. I believe time will rectify all your problems. That and closeness. To that ends, I would like to offer to rent you the top floor of our beach house. Narcissa was living in the top floor, but now that she has moved back into the Manor with me, it is available. Draco has control of the bottom floor, but you would be allowed to eat food prepared in the kitchen and bring your own house elf. I think you would be the perfect renter and that you will find the accommodations more than adequate. I am asking only a modest price of twenty galleons a month. Please let me know if you are interested._

_-Sincerely, Lord Lucius Malfoy_

 

            I was definitely interested. Immediately, I wrote a return owl, agreeing to take it. I didn’t even care what it looked like or if it came with a loo. If it meant having an excuse to live with Draco and my son, I was in. I didn’t bother to find out if twenty galleons a month was a fair rent price.

            I was ecstatic as I packed my backpack with pajamas, a spare set of clothes, and toiletries, grabbed up all my purchases from the evening before, and apparated to Draco’s beach house. I was so over the moon with joy about the new development, that I didn’t think _anything_ could spoil my mood.

            But then I was greeted with an absolutely _livid_ Draco upon entering the house.

            “I am going to kill you, just so you know. Downstairs is mine. Upstairs should be mine too. I asked my father for it, but noooo, he has to play match-maker with the bloody Savior. So, stick to your floor. If you don’t, you’ll die a most gruesome and savage death,” he said threateningly, by way of greeting.

            “Um, but I brought this stuff for Scorpius,” I protested. This was our agreed upon time: three thirty.

            “Leave it there on the floor and go up. My son and you are not to be in the same room together again. Is that clear? I will bring you up on charges, if you so much as go near him!” Draco exclaimed, veins bulging out of his neck in anger.

            “I’m sorry. Would it be better if I didn’t move in?” I asked, even though this was the last thing in the world I wanted.

            “Yes!” Draco exclaimed exasperated. “This was supposed to be _my_ house. I was going to raise Scorpius here alone, without you or my father! And later, when we need more space, I have the upstairs to expand into. But noooo. My father is only giving me half the house, barely enough room for us as it is. And to top it off, he says that if I don’t get married, he and my mother are going to start trying for another baby, to replace me! The new baby will be made heir, and I’ll just be the weird spinster Malfoy who lives in half a house and doesn’t inherit anything! And it’s all _your_ fault, you bloody twat!” The last was screamed at me.

            “Your mum is pregnant?” I asked dubiously.

            “Not yet. But even she thinks that replacing me as the Malfoy heir is the only option if I continue down the path I’m on. I’m not talking to her. Maybe not ever again, but I am most certainly not talking to her anytime soon. Maybe when she has another miscarriage, she and Father will come crawling back to me all apologies for being the world’s _worst_ parents, but until then, Scorpius and I are better off without them,” Draco answered, still seething.

            I remembered then what Draco said of the many shriveled up fruits on the Malfoy tree and figured replacing Draco was probably an idle threat, but I didn’t know for sure.

            “Okay…um, so, er, I should just leave now and go live elsewhere, so that I can come back tomorrow to see my son. Yeah?”

            Draco let out a nonverbal scream, but nodded.

            “All right. I’m still going to pay my rent, because I don’t want anyone else living so close to you, but until you ask me to move in, I’ll be living with the Weasleys. I’ll see you tomorrow, same as usual,” I said.

            “I don’t know why you bother! Two years without a word; you’ve lived your life as if we didn’t exist and now all of a sudden you take an interest? I’m sure you’ll be sick of us inside a week and then you’ll be off again, finding some other way to save everyone else,” Draco replied.

            “You’re wrong. I don’t know how I’m going to prove it to you, but I will. I’m in this forever. I want you and I want our son. And if you want to live here, then that’s fine by me,” I said.

            “Just go already, Potter. I’m in no mood for your games today,” Draco said.

            And so, I left.

            I went for a walk, trying to figure out how everything had turned so wrong. This morning, I was making progress with Draco and moving into the beach house. But now I wasn’t even allowed my half hour visitation. Lucius’ gift was tainted; poisoned. In fact, everything Lucius touched turned to ash. Lucius’ marriage contract- not approved by Draco. Lucius’ housing arrangement- not approved by Draco. And worse, it was Lucius who’d kept my letters from Draco and broken us apart in the first place.

            An epiphany occurred to me: if I wanted to fix all the harm Lucius had done, the only solution was to do the opposite of what Lucius wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think of all the developments in this chapter? And should Draco’s parents carry through with their threat to replace him? Should refusing to give him the beach house be the last straw before Draco turns on Lucius, or should the last straw be Narcissa getting pregnant?   
> By the way, I haven’t decided what to write for the next chapter, so it might take a little longer than usual to get it up. Ideas are welcome :)


	24. Chapter 24

            I decided to go to the papers. Not the Prophet, because one, I still hated Skeeter, and two, I now knew Lucius owned part of that paper. Any interview I gave, there was a possibility that Lucius could mess with it; edit out all the things I needed to say and turn my words around a completely different way to make him look good. I couldn’t have that, so I went with Luna Lovegood’s dad, the owner of the Quibbler. Luckily for me, he dropped everything and agreed to meet with me the very next morning.

            I told Mr. Lovegood all about how Draco and I fell in love back in fourth year and how an unplanned pregnancy drove Draco into hiding. I spoke of the letters Draco sent me through Snape and the ones I’d sent back, and the details of why I couldn’t go into hiding with my family. While I was on the topic of Snape, I mentioned how great I thought the fallen hero was and that he was my son’s godfather.

            Then I revealed that Lucius Malfoy had house elves intercept, and for all I knew, destroy, all my letters to Draco. I still had all the letters Draco had sent me, so I pulled them out and described as near as I could remember, what my responses were to each.

            I put extra emphasis on the fact that I’d asked Draco to marry me in one of my early letters, because I’d loved him so much and knew I’d always love him, and that that was before I’d figured out that he wasn’t getting my letters. Then I told Mr. Lovegood of the documents Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black had arranged for a solicitor to draft on my behalf. Documents that stated my intentions to marry Draco and claim our son. I even handed over a copy, which I’d found tucked away in Grimmauld Place. I also mentioned that I’d arranged for support payments to be made and that the money was sitting untouched in a vault for Draco. I told Luna’s dad that I still wanted to marry Draco and be a proper father to my son. And most importantly, I told Lovegood that I loved Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy with all my heart and was still madly in love with Draco Lucius Malfoy.

            Lovegood promised to print everything I said in a special addition of the Quibbler, and have it out as soon as he could. But he’d taken me past his printing press, which was inside his house, and interviewed me in his upstairs sitting room. It was obvious that his magazine was a one-wizard production, not the big mega-corporation that was the Prophet, so I didn’t put much hope in it coming out soon. For now, I’d have to find other ways to get closer to Draco and Scorpius.

            At three thirty on the dot, I apparated to Draco’s beach house. By the look on Draco’s face, I judged he was still angry with me. He pointed to the corner of the nursery room and told me to stay there and not move a muscle during the entire visit, or I’d be thrown out. I wasn’t sure if he could throw me out of the house, because technically I was renting the upstairs, but he could throw me out of the downstairs, where our son was, and banish me to the upper floor. I didn’t want that, so I stayed in my corner and watched.

            Scorpius was wearing the new trousers and shirt I’d bought. Not the ones that were too big, but the smaller ones that I’d gone back for and only left with Draco yesterday, when he was in the process of throwing me out. It made me feel a little better to know that my son was wearing the clothes I bought, despite his father being pissed at me, and that they fit perfectly. It almost made up for the fact that I had to stay in my corner.

            My satisfaction at the clothes, however, was marred when Scorpius hid himself behind Draco’s leg, pointed to me, and asked, “Bad Totta?”

            Draco sighed, picked Scorpius up, settled the baby onto his hip, and leaned down to nuzzle the little blond head. “No, my Scorpion. He’s not a bad Potter. He’s just a Potter I don’t want,” he explained softly.

            “Like Elf?” Scorpius whispered.

            “No, he’s not an elf, like Snotty. We want Snotty. Snotty is just stupid. Potter isn’t stupid. He’s annoying. There’s a difference,” Draco explained.

            “Totta go bye bye?” Scorpius asked.

            Draco sighed. “I wish. Go on, find something to play with. We have to get on with our lives. We can’t spend all day waiting for annoying Potters to leave. What will it be? Blocks? Trains? Ball?”

            “Lolly,” Scorpius said, pointing to a lone baby doll tucked away on a shelf.

            Draco grabbed the doll, handed it to Scorpius, and then tried to put the child down. But Scorpius hung on with a cry of, “Uhhhhg,” and a whimper, so Draco kept hold of him.

            “You don’t want down?” Draco asked.

            Scorpius shook his head.

            Draco walked passed the crib and Scorpius grabbed a blanket from the side of it, holding it to his chest along with the doll.

            “You’re not normally like this,” Draco said, sitting in a rocking chair, Scorpius in his lap.

            Scorpius wrapped the doll in a clumsy bundle with the blanket and rocked it, hugging it to his little chest. He started humming, signaling Draco to sing the words to the tune.

            “Do you want Father to rock you and sing to you, my sweet Scorpion, is that it?” Draco asked, looking down at the child in his lap.

            Scorpius nodded. Draco pulled him close and slung an arm under the baby’s legs, rocking back and forth as he sang. All the while, Scorpius kept the doll and the blanket clutched close.

            But when the song was finished and Draco moved on to the next one, the spell was broken. Scorpius squirmed to sit up, holding his doll in the air, and saying, “Pee pee. Lolly pee pee.”

            “The Dolly has to go pee pee?” Draco asked, setting Scorpius back onto his lap.

            Scorpius nodded.

            “All right. Better run her to the potty, then,” Draco said putting Scorpius down and standing up. Scorpius took off running. “Does Scorpius have to go pee pee too?”

            Scorpius shook his head, pale blond hair flying, as he ran to a child’s potty. It was shiny and new and I wondered if Draco was potty training our son already. It was too soon, wasn’t it?

            Scorpius put the doll on the potty. Draco played along, singing a silly celebratory song about tinkling in the potty. Scorpius clapped and jumped up and down.

            “Dolly did it. Are you ready for your turn, Scorp?” Draco asked.

            Scorpius shook his head.

            “Did you already go pee pee in your nappy?” Draco asked.

            Scorpius nodded.

            “Would you like a fresh one?” Draco asked.

            Scorpius shook his head, running off to fetch a xylophone. He got off one clink of the keys with the attached wooden mallet, before Draco scooped him up.

            “You can play later, Scorpius. If you wet your nappy, you can’t just go around playing in it like a barbarian. You have to get a fresh one,” Draco explained, taking a struggling Scorpius to the changing table.

            “Nooooooo! Goooooo! Plaaaaaay!” Scorpius cried as Draco changed him.

            “No, we’re changing your nappy. If you were a big boy who pee pees in the potty, you could be playing right now. But babies have to have their nappies changed,” Draco insisted while he worked, ignoring all of Scorpius’ magical antics with flashing lights and loud bangs.

            A minute later, the soiled nappy was in the bin, a fresh one was on Scorpius’ butt, and Scorpius was redressed. Draco set the baby down by the xylophone, but Scorpius was no longer interested in that. This time he wanted his toy train.

            Crawling on hands and knees, Scorpius pushed the train out the door, calling, “Woo Woo.”

            Draco followed after, directing Scorpius into the sitting room with the train.

            I moved to follow too, but Draco turned around at the doorway to the sitting room and stopped me. “It’s a quarter past four, Potter. In a few more minutes, it’ll be time to nurse again. You should go,” he said.

            “Can I watch?” I asked sheepishly.

            Draco glared at me so fiercely I thought better of it.

            “Never mind. I’ll just go. Same time tomorrow?” I asked.

            Draco nodded, so I called out a farewell to Scorpius and left.

            As I walked down the path in front of the beach house, I tripped over Scorpius’ tricycle and got an idea: Scorpius needed a place to keep it. If I built something for him, I’d have an excuse to stay longer.

            It was still hours yet before Molly would have supper on, so I found a Muggle hardware store and asked about building some type of storage unit for a child’s tricycle. The first Muggle showed me a number of prebuilt plastic options, but I explained I wanted to build something by hand, out of wood. He gave me a funny look at that, but I had the money and was willing to pay, so he passed me along to a second Muggle who was a carpenter.

            I told the second Muggle what I wanted and he said he didn’t really have anything like that, but he did have plans for a wooden play structure with a fortress on top, a slide on one side, a rope ladder on the second side, and a set of stairs on the third side. Two swings were connected on the fourth side. And best of all, underneath the stairs and fortress, was a space that could be turned into a little garage for a tricycle, if I built it right.

            The directions were complicated and even more so, because they were being modified by the carpenter. But he sold me all the supplies I’d need and told me I could come back if I needed help. He tried to sell me Muggle power tools too, but I had my wand and knew Hermione would help me find the appropriate spells. Besides, I had no idea if electricity could even be rigged up to a Wizarding house and guessed not, because the Muggleborns at Hogwarts were always complaining that their electronics didn’t work in the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not particularly happy with this chapter, but I’m having a bit of writer’s block. Please Review!


	25. Chapter 25

            After supper, I sent Draco an owl mentioning that I would like to build a play shed for Scorpius’ tricycle outside the house and asking if that was all right, or if I needed to get permission from his father.

            First thing in the morning, I received an owl back.

 

_Dear Potter,_

_A play shed would be acceptable, but only if it is keeping with the standards of the property. If it is ugly, Snotty will vanish it for you. Please note, that mornings are for outdoor play, not afternoons. So, we will be inside while you muck about outside._

_Sincerely, Draco Malfoy_

            That owl immediately changed my plans, because I wanted to be outside while Draco and Scorpius were outside. Knowing how slow owls were, I called Dobby and Kreacher—Kreacher because he was my elf and Dobby, because Kreacher didn’t like me much and Dobby was still watching him for me—and ordered the elves to tell Draco that I’d changed my mind and was coming in the morning.

            I was stuffing my mouth with toast when Dobby and Kreacher returned, Molly having only just begun to cook the Weasley family breakfast. The elves reported that Draco had agreed and shoed them off, so I ordered the elves to start transporting the supplies and grabbed a second piece of toast.

            I still had a mouth full of toast when I apparated to the beach house. Draco and Scorpius were nowhere in sight, so I told Kreacher and Dobby to stay put and went inside.

            I found Draco feeding Scorpius mush, as usual, except this time the mush was pink and Scorpius’ pajamas were the new cool grey ones with the snakes. The bib was new too; one of the ones Hermione and Luna picked out that said, “Auntie Loves Me,” of all things. Neither Draco nor I had a sister, so I figured it was their way of insinuating that they would like to be Scorpius’ aunts.

            “Yum, yum, strawberries, Scorp. You like strawberries, don’t you?” Draco was asking as he spooned bits of mush into Scorpius’ mouth.

            Scorpius must’ve really liked it, because he sat there waiting with an open mouth in between bites and making happy noises of appreciation with every swallow.

            “Um, I’m here, just so you know. I’ll be outside working on it,” I said.

            “You do that, Potter. We’re having strawberry oatmeal this morning and it’s actually going in our tummies for once,” Draco replied in a better mood than he’d been in for days.

            I went back outside and began to work, starting with the frame. It was hard going, but I had magic, two elves, and all the time in the world. There was no rush, because this gave me an excuse to be outside and watch as Draco brought our son outside to play. Now Scorpius was wearing the new swim clothes I’d bought in the smaller size: red dragon bottoms with a plain red top and a matching red sunhat.

            Scorpius rode his tricycle in the other direction today, towards the garden. Draco followed and from the sounds of it, had to stop the baby from picking unripe fruits and vegetables and mangling flowers. After a while, Draco chased Scorpius out of the garden, out to the front of the house, where I was working.

            Scorpius stopped, rose up on his tip-toes while straddling the tricycle, pointed an accusing finger at me, and grunted loudly.

            “Yes, I know, Scorpius. The Potter is back. He’s like a bad case of nappy rash that we can’t get rid of,” Draco explained.

            “Totta?” Scorpius asked.

            “Hello, Scorpius! I’m making you a play-castle, with a garage for your tricycle. Is that all right?” I asked, stepping closer to my little boy.

            “My kyke!” Scorpius yelled, flinging his arms protectively over the handle bars.

            “Yes, it is your tricycle and it will be your play-castle too,” I replied.

            “My play?” he asked.

            “Yes, your play-castle,” I confirmed.

            “Fadder?” Scorpius asked, turning to look at Draco, while pointing at me. “Totta gig elf.”

            “You think so, my Scorpion?” Draco asked.

            Scorpius nodded.

            “All right, Potter, you have been promoted to elf. Do all your chores, stay out of the way, and don’t bleed in the house when you punish yourself for being bad,” Draco said. “Oh, and despite what ideas your Granger puts in your head, it is definitely an unpaid position.”

            “Er…Okaaaay…” I trailed off, not knowing how to take this.

            “It is a great honor to be a house elf for such a noble family, Master Draco, sir,” Kreacher said bowing his nose to the pavement, as if Draco had just promoted him too.

            “Dobby will work for Harry Potter, but Dobby has no master!” Dobby proclaimed.

            “Come along, Scorpius. We have playing to do and the elves have working to do,” Draco said, encouraging Scorpius to continue towards the beach and ignoring my elves.

            Scorpius went with a shout of, “Wadder! Go go go!”

            Draco followed. Today they skipped the sandcastle and went in the meandering path of a toddler, to the ocean. Scorpius swam in his new swim clothes and I noticed with pride that he was weighed down less by soggy clothes, because this fabric didn’t absorb the sea the way regular clothing did.

            I watched the fun from a distance, slowly working on the frame of the castle with Dobby and Kreacher, being sure to follow the directions.

            When Draco’s alarm went off, he dragged a screaming Scorpius from the water. The baby’s flailing limbs impeded his progress towards the house, so he was going very slowly as he passed where I was building the castle thing near the front of the house.

            “Here, let me get that,” I said, running to get the front door.

            “Elf!” Scorpius cried, momentarily shocked out of his fit.

            “Yes, my Scorpion, you’ve found the elusive Potter elf. If only you could unfind him,” Draco replied, stepping into the mudroom.

            Draco removed both his and Scorpius’ shoes there.

            I took the moment to offer, “I could watch him for you, while you shower and get dressed. Just call me; I’ll be out here.”

            “We bathe together. I don’t have the luxury of time to myself. Not even when my mother is here, do I get to bathe by myself,” he replied and then went down the hall to the sitting room.

            I followed. “But you could now. I could watch him. You should have time to yourself,” I insisted.

            “That’s not what my father says. ‘Once you spread your legs, Draco, your time belongs to the child you bring into this mess,’ Father says,” Draco said as he set Scorpius on the floor and kneeled to remove the wet clothing.

            “I don’t much like your father. Let’s do the opposite of everything he says,” I suggested.

            “And how do you suppose we do that? I’m living in his house, off his allowance, and using his house elf to do all my magic,” Draco replied, working Scorpius’ swimtrunks down over the swollen nappy.

            I was pleased to note that the stripping process was faster with proper swimclothes; Draco must’ve accomplished it in less than half the time. And for some reason, Scorpius was not fighting to get away today, instead sitting there with his index finger in his mouth as he watched me. Even when Draco got the nappy off, stood Scorpius up, and let him free, the baby stayed standing there, index finger in his mouth, watching me with wide green eyes.

            “Why don’t you do any magic yourself? You’re seventeen now, same as me,” I replied.

            Draco screamed wordlessly in exasperation, took a menacing step towards me, poked me accusingly in the chest, and exclaimed, “Because of you! I didn’t even finish my fourth year! I’ve been without magic for _two_ years!!! Now that I’m finally allowed, I can’t remember any spells that would actually be of _use_ to me! Using a spell to turn on the lights is hardly worth the bother, when Scorpius likes to go for my wand! Sure, I can make the occasional potion when Mother watches him, but she’ll only watch him if he’s sick and needs a potion! Most of my magic these days, is Herbology out in the garden, like I’m fucking Longbottom!”

            Meanwhile, Scorpius cowered in fear and hid behind Draco’s leg, clutching on tightly with his little fingers. I could just see one of his wide green eyes watching me from behind Draco’s old robes.

            “What about all those spells we learned in fourth year? Wouldn’t it be helpful taking care of Scorpius if you changed his nappy with your wand and all the other tricks we learned?” I asked.

            Draco grunted in rage at me. “I wasn’t paying attention to that back in fourth year! I didn’t want to be in that class! I didn’t think I’d ever have a use for any of it. I thought I’d have a stay-at-home husband to do it all, while I went off to my very important job as a professional Quidditch player. Besides, they’re mostly charms and charms has always been my worst subject! And you don’t even _know_ what Scorpius can do with a wand if he gets hold of one!!!” he shouted.

            Scorpius whimpered and then started crying softly. Draco noticed and bent down to pick the child up, settling Scorpius on his hip and comforting him.

            “Father’s sorry, my precious Scorpion. I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just the Potter makes me so mad sometimes. It’s all his fault, you know,” Draco said gently into Scorpius’ ear as he ran his free hand over the baby’s head.

            “Bad elf?” Scorpius asked.

            Draco chuckled and let some of his anger and frustration slip away with a sigh. “Yes, Scorp, Potter is a bad elf. A good elf wouldn’t talk so much.”

            Scorpius said something I couldn’t understand, except for the phrase, “Totta elf,” so I figured he was talking about me.

            Draco didn’t seem to catch it either. Instead he called Snotty and asked the elf to take our son into the nursery for a few minutes to play. Scorpius followed Snotty and then Draco and I were alone, face to face for the first time since the first day. He was still angry, but more haggard and less spoiling for a fight.

            “I really don’t have time to deal with you, Potter,” Draco said with a sigh.

            “You have a schedule to keep, I know. I just want to help. I want to watch Scorpius and do some of your chores, so you can put some time for yourself into your busy schedule. I want a chance to fix everything I’ve ruined and put our family back together, the way it was meant to be. Just let me help, Draco,” I pleaded emphatically.

            Draco sighed again. “I don’t see how you can fix things. I don’t love you anymore. I don’t want you back,” he said flatly. The fact he didn’t scream it or yell it in anger, made it so much worse.

            In that moment, I wanted to break down and cry. I snuffled back my tears, determined to stay strong, and with a broken voice, I requested, “Then please let me do whatever I can, so that you can lead a more normal life. If you don’t want to marry me, you at least need time to yourself sometimes. And you didn’t finish school, but you need to get your OWLs at least.”

            “How can I get my OWLs, Potter, when I can’t take Scorpius to school with me? I’m nursing, so I can’t leave him with a sitter all day,” Draco replied. He was listing obstacles, but he sounded like he wanted me to come up with a real solution.

            “A tutor. We’ll get you a tutor, who can come here, to the house. I’ll watch Scorpius for a few hours every day while you learn. I’ll ask Flitwick himself to come and if he’s busy, I’ll find someone just as good. You should start with charms, I think, because that will be the most help in your day-to-day life. I could ask Pomfrey or Sprout to come, to teach you those baby charms again. Merlin, even Molly Weasley would come here and teach you a few spells if I ask. Why hasn’t your mother taught you any?” I asked.

            “My mother agrees with my father, that I should be punished. Professor Snape is the only one who’s taught me any magic in the last two years and he’s dead now.” He teared up then, at the mention of Snape. “Merlin, sometimes it felt like Snape was the only one in the world who cared about me. Father’s just out for himself and the family name and Mother does whatever Father says. But Snape, he would do _anything_ for me and Scorpius. Sometimes I think it’s my fault Snape is dead, because he probably protected _you_ thinking that Scorpius and I needed you, when really we just needed _him!_ ” He was sobbing now, sagging at the knees, looking like he was about to break down in his grief.

            I cried too. I felt like a cad for the way I’d treated Snape all those years. Not only was Snape watching out for me, but he was clearly taking care of my family in my absence. He didn’t defy Lucius, but he did what he could.

            “Come here,” I said, arms out for Draco to enter. He came and I wrapped my arms around him, comforting him. I loved him, even if he didn’t love me. I wanted him to be happy, even if that cost me my happiness. If he wanted to date and marry someone else, I couldn’t stop him. I just wanted my son and to share some of the burden. “I miss Snape so much too. I was wrong about him. So wrong. He was the true hero in all of this. I told Skeeter that.”

            He nodded and replied, “I saw.”

            “We’ll have a grand funeral for him. We’ll honor him like the hero he was,” I said.

            He nodded. “But I’m all wet. I need a bath and my breasts are starting to hurt. Scorpius needs to nurse.”

            “All right. You go do that. I’m going to find you a charms tutor. What time is good for you?” I asked, letting my arms fall to my side.

            “We have two hours of play time directly after breakfast. That’s the only time I can manage it, but it would mean Scorpius wouldn’t be able to go outside and play,” he answered.

            “I can watch him,” I insisted.

            “I don’t trust you watching him in the ocean. We’re in a protected cove, so the waves are always small. But still, if you take your eyes off him for a second, he could drown.”

            “I’ll watch him inside, if that will make you more comfortable. He can go swimming in the afternoon or on weekends. Your education is more important. And if you don’t trust that I can handle it, I can ask Molly Weasley to supervise. She has a lot on her plate right now with Fred’s death, but she’ll do it, for me.”

            “My father won’t give the secret to a Weasley. Just you and you stay inside the nursery. Half past eight to half past ten, Monday through Friday. I must go now; Scorpius isn’t even wearing a nappy. He could be defecating all over the nursery,” Draco said, running out the room.

            I followed Draco into the nursery and sure enough, Scorpius was sitting on the little potty, doll in his lap.

            “Did you make pee pee, Scorpius?” Draco asked excitedly.

            Scorpius nodded and stood up, doll hanging from one hand, proud of himself. But when Draco went to check, there was no pee or poo in the little toilet. Scorpius had just been playing. Draco did the celebration noises and sang the potty song as if Scorpius really had gone and Scorpius stood there with a big smile on his pointy little face.

            Then Draco ushered Scorpius off to the bath and I left, to arrange a tutor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Review!


	26. Chapter 26

            “Flitwick recommend a substitute he uses for his classes, Professor Lusby. He can start on Monday,” I said when I entered the dining room the next morning, bright and early.

            Draco was feeding Scorpius strawberry oatmeal again and Scorpius was just as happy about it as the day before, as evidenced by the _lack_ of food on his new pajamas; the blue pair with the green aliens this time. Today’s new bib was blue with a yellow star and the saying, “Reach for the Stars,” on it.

            “All right. I don’t remember Lusby much, so I’m guessing he’s mediocre.” There was a pause and then Draco added, “I had an owl from Snape’s solicitor. Scorpius and I are in his will. We’ll be going to Spinner’s End tomorrow morning, in case you wish to come along. Scorpius has never left the house before and I haven’t gone into the Wizarding World since the Dark Lord’s return.”

            “Yeah, I’ll go!” I jumped eagerly at the offer. “What time?”

            “Directly after breakfast. Don’t think this is a reward. I’m only offering, in case we need protection. I am in fact extremely mad at you,” he said, feint sweetness in his tone as he continued to feed Scorpius.

            “Why are you talking like that?”

            “Because Scorpius doesn’t like when I yell at the Potter elf, do you, sweet baby?” he tenderly brushed a knuckle down the side of Scorpius’ little face.

            “Totta elf no bad elf!” Scorpius called out, pointing a finger at me as if this were a lecture or a command.

            “All right, I’ll be a good elf,” I conceded.

            Scorpius smiled widely, nodded, and spoke some gibberish to Draco, as if saying, “I told you so.”

            “Very good, you sorted that Totta elf out good. Well done,” Draco complimented Scorpius. “Now if only you could make him not so stupid…” The last was muttered under his breath.

            Draco finished up feeding Scorpius and then took our son into his room and closed the door on me, presumably to nurse.

            If Draco hadn’t sounded like there was something else he meant to tell me, but was holding back because our son was there, I would’ve gone outside and gotten to work with Kreacher and Dobby on the play-castle. Because he had, I waited in the sitting room for them to emerge. But they didn’t come into the sitting room when they exited Draco’s room; instead they went into the nursery. I followed.

            Draco was pulling another set of brand new swimclothes, the green ones this time, out of the dresser, while Scorpius was trying to stack wooden rings onto a base with a wooden pole.

            “Erm, Draco, is there something else you want to talk about? Maybe we could have Snotty watch Scorpius in here and you could scream at me for being a bad elf in the sitting room?” I suggested.

            “Elves really shouldn’t talk so much. Do you know how to punish yourself for talking so much, or are you just a baby elf?” Draco asked in a condescending tone, setting the swimclothes down on top of the dresser.

            “Shush, Totta elf, shush,” Scorpius commanded in a warning tone, index finger pressed to his full little lips, as if he was afraid I was about to get myself in trouble. He was a very sweet baby, trying to keep me out of trouble.

            “Er, no, I don’t. Can you teach me?” I asked with a smirk. I wasn’t opposed to him bending me over and spanking me, if he still loved me. Maybe I could get him to love me again.

            “Fine. Snotty, watch Scorpius. Totta elf, to the sitting room,” Draco ordered.

            Snotty appeared and began picking up rings and handing them to Scorpius, to add to the pole. I went to the sitting room, with Draco following behind.

            I almost asked if I should lower my trousers for my spanking when Draco closed and locked the door behind him, but thought better of it. That was a bit forward and he didn’t look like this was about sex; he looked like he was still mad.

            “Silence the room, so Scorpius doesn’t hear,” Draco commanded.

            “Okay…” I said and then cast Muffliato.

            “I read the contract you and my father put together, you utter tosser! I can’t believe you!” Draco yelled the instant the silencing spell was in place.

            “The marriage contract? I thought it was rather reasonable,” I said.

            “Yes, the marriage contract, where there is _no_ mention of _my_ inheritance or _my_ allowance from the Malfoy family vaults! You two were going to cut me out of my own inheritance! And _my father_ ,” the last two words were spit out like a profanity, “doesn’t even have another heir to choose from! What the fuck are you two playing at!?!” he asked accusingly.

            “Your inheritance? I thought the contract was just about our marriage,” I protested, having no clue what Lucius had done or why.

            “The assets _each_ party puts into the marriage need to be spelled out in the contract. If my inheritance isn’t mentioned, my father can choose not to give it to me. He can have another child—granted my mother doesn’t seem capable of providing him with one—but if he did produce one, then that child could be the Malfoy heir and Scorpius and I would be out in the cold, living off the pittance you’ve set up for us. We’d be no better off, then we were for the last two years living off my allowance.”

            “Your father didn’t mention any of that…I just assumed your inheritance was set,” I replied.

            “Well, it should have been, but my father still doesn’t like you. Part of me doesn’t understand why he’s pushing us together so hard, when he hates you so much. But truthfully, I do get it: you’re the Savior of the Wizarding World and all that dragon dung. He wants your name and our heirs combined, through Scorpius. He’s probably counting on you killing yourself when you start work for the Aurors, so that I can remarry and have another, more _suitable_ Malfoy heir. Then the Malfoy inheritance will be in _that_ marriage contract!” he ranted.

            “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what your father was doing. I’ll resend this contract and make him sign another, to your liking, if you are still interested,” I offered.

            Draco huffed and sighed. “I don’t know what I want. I just don’t want you colluding with my father.”

            “All right. Noted. Do not talk to Lucius Malfoy without Draco Malfoy there to interpret what Lucius is up to. Check,” I agreed.

            “And what the fuck is wrong with you: signing another contract!?! I told Scorpius you were smarter than a house elf, but turns out I was wrong. Didn’t you learn anything when he used the contract from the Yule Ball to take Scorpius away from you?” Draco asked accusingly.

            I covered my face with my hands and sunk down into the sofa, feeling like an idiot. How could I have _possibly_ fallen for Lucius’ contracts again? No wonder Draco was pissed at me when he found out I’d signed a marriage contract without his approval. And I did all this _after_ Sirius and Dumbledore had chided me for signing the first contract. My only defense was that Sirius and Dumbledore were both dead now and I’d been desperate to see Draco and my son. I might’ve signed my life away in that moment, if Lucius had phrased it right. And I had had the contract checked by a solicitor; I just hadn’t asked if the contract was fair for Draco as well as me.

            “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” I apologized.

            “See that you don’t. I must get Scorpius dressed. It seems like he doesn’t have very many days left to swim this summer,” Draco said, leaving the room.

            I pulled myself together, because wallowing in self-pity wouldn’t get my family back. Making Scorpius a place to store his tricycle would at least win my son over to my side. So, I went outside and got to work with Dobby and Kreacher. We were making good progress, putting the platform on the top, when Draco and Scorpius came out.

            I expected Scorpius to head straight to the tricycle, but instead he came up to me, where I was working under the play structure.

            “Totta?” he asked.

            “Yes, sweet Scorpius?” I asked in return.

            “It OK. Fadder shush shush. Totta OK. Totta no bad,” Scorpius said kindly, little hand taking two of my fingers and squeezing in a gesture of comfort.

            I wondered if he did this for all the elves after they got in trouble, or if he just sensed my sad mood.

            “Thank you, Scorpius. You’re very kind. Daddy loves you very much,” I replied, wanting to hug him. I would’ve leaned down and hugged him, if I didn’t have my wand in one hand at the same time as I was holding up a plank of wood, ensuring that it wouldn’t fall on my precious baby.

            And then Draco called, “Come along, Scorpius. We have to go go go!” and Scorpius went.

            My son climbed onto his tricycle and began scooting down the pathway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating sooner. There was something wrong with the notifications last week, so I was worried you all wouldn’t be notified again. Please let me know if they are working again.
> 
> What do you think of Draco reading the marriage contract? Please Review!


	27. Chapter 27

            The next day Draco dressed himself and Scorpius in their best robes; the blue set I’d just bought for Scorpius and the dress robes from the Yule ball for Draco. Draco eyed my outfit over, but Ginny had picked it in an effort to make Draco realize how fit I was and therefore that he needed to take me back, so it passed his inspection. Then the three of us flooed to Professor Snape's house in Spinner's End.

            It was a dark, run-down dreary sort of place. It was packed with potion vials, potion ingredients, potion books, and all sorts of things that reminded me of the late professor. A dower looking solicitor wearing black robes and a tall wizard’s hat met us there with a large folio of parchments.

            “I am Solicitor Goldstein. You must be Draco, Scorpius, and Harry Malfoy. Have a seat. There are things we need to discuss,” the wizard said, motioning towards the old warped kitchen table.

            I didn’t object to the mistake on my last name. In fact, I kind of liked the sound of it, a smile forming at the corner of my lips at the implication. Even if Draco wasn’t wearing my ring, he was still mine in a way. This stranger saw it and hopefully everyone else would too.

            Draco sat with Scorpius on his lap. I took the seat next to them.

            Goldstein placed a glass fishbowl with one goldfish in it in front of Scorpius and handed the baby a magical blooming pink flower, saying, “These are to be given to Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, grandson of Lily Evans, upon the death of Severus Snape. Lily Evans made them and Severus Snape found a way to preserve them beyond her death and his. Neither object is alive, but care still should be taken with them. Our young gentleman might not yet be old enough for his inheritance.

            Scorpius looked at the flower in his hands and cooed adoringly.

            I smiled broadly in amazement that Snape had held on to these artifacts from my mother all these years and not said a word. If Snape hadn’t just sacrificed his life for mine, I probably would’ve been very upset at him for keeping them from me, because I had longed all my life to have something to remember my parents by. This flower or this fish would have brought me so much joy when I was stuck in that cupboard underneath the stairs at Private Drive. But I now knew that Snape needed them just as much as I did, so I did not begrudge him keeping them for himself.

            “You need to be very careful with that, Scorpius. Godfather Snape gave it to you,” Draco said into Scorpius’ ear, already tearing up.

            “Kyke and boooom,” Scorpius said and gently set the flower down on the table in front of him.

            Then Scorpius turned to Draco and said, “I go go go Sape.”

            “No, I’m sorry, Scorpius. Godfather Snape is dead. He’s gone,” Draco said softly, tears streaming down his face.

            Scorpius, sensing Draco’s distress, turned around and hugged his father, placing sweet kisses on Draco’s cheek to cheer him up.

            “To Harry Evans Malfoy, only son of Lily Evans, Severus Snape leaves the painting of Lily Evans that is hung in his bedroom,” the solicitor continued.

            “He left me a painting?” I asked, surprised. I noticed that the Potter name was not mentioned and figured that when writing his will, Professor Snape hadn’t been able to acknowledge that the only child of his beloved, was also the child of one of his enemies.

            “Yes, I will show it to you after I finish with the items willed to Mr. Draco Malfoy,” Goldstein replied. Then he turned to Draco. “Draco, son, Severus left you everything else. This house. His bank vaults. Everything. It all goes to you. Originally, his will said it was to go to the future grandchildren of Lily Evans, but after you were impregnated at such a young age, he felt it was only right that someone look out for you and Scorpius. So, he changed his will and left it all to you, under the condition that you continue to have custody of Scorpius and are a loving parent to him. Otherwise, everything goes into a trust to be given to Scorpius Malfoy upon his eleventh birthday.”

            Draco smiled through his tears. “He left it all to me, not Potter?” he asked, just to make sure. “Are you sure? Potter’s always been the one to get unfair special treatment.”

            “Not from Snape,” I objected.

            “Yes. Severus did not feel Harry was a worthy heir who would treasure the mementoes he kept of Lily Evans. He knew how you were about family heirlooms and decided that they would be safest in your hands. As for the house, he often thought of destroying it himself, because of all the bad memories it held for him, but he never could. In the end, he thought you might need a place to escape from Harry and from your father, so he left you the house. Also, he saw you struggling to provide for Lily’s grandchild and knew that if he left his money to you, Scorpius would never want for anything. Additionally, he feared that Harry might not return to you after the war and do right by you and that your father was also too untrustworthy to leave Scorpius’ well-being up to. Scorpius is of course far too little to manage it all, so it all goes to you, Draco,” Goldstein concluded.

            “I’m free,” Draco whispered, wiping tears from his eyes.

            I leaned in and hugged him, our son in between us. “I’m very happy for you. You deserve this,” I said to Draco.

            “But I’m free of you. Aren’t you mad?” Draco asked.

            “No. I don’t want to trap you. I want to love you and you to be with me willingly. If you were with me out of obligation, it wouldn’t feel right. You live your life. I want you to be happy. I just want to know my son,” I fibbed. It was true that I wanted him to be happy, but I was still determined to show him that he could be happy with me.

            He hugged me back. Then he stood up with Scorpius on his hip and said to our son, “Come on, let’s see our new house. And this one we don’t have to share with anyone and the house elves won’t belong to Grandfather.”

            Goldstein proceeded to give Draco a tour of the house and I followed. It wasn’t the sort of place I wanted my son to grow up in. It was too depressing. I’d rather they lived in the beach house with all its beauty than this old dump. But maybe Draco saw something I didn’t, because he was smiling through his tears as he took it all in. Draco liked the library and the potions laboratory and I had to admit, they were nicer than the sitting room and kitchen, but I still wouldn’t want to live here.

            Then we came across a bedroom that was filled with brand-new children’s toys. Not baby toys, but brooms and bicycles and such, made for elementary aged children.

            “Toys!” Scorpius exclaimed, arms reaching out excitedly.

            “I can only assume that these items were meant for Scorpius, but they were not mentioned in Severus’ will. It seems to me that he only purchased them recently, likely suspecting he would not live much longer,” Goldstein said.

            “He wanted to spoil Scorpius like a godfather should, even after he no longer is here to do it,” I surmised. It was sort of like Sirius buying me my firebolt when he got free, only Snape was more prepared and knew there would be no coming back from where he was going.

            Draco nodded.

            The house was small, so there was only one more bedroom: Snape’s bedroom, where the portrait of my mother hung. I went up to it immediately, hand tracing the lines of her young image. She was painted as a teenager, with a shy Severus Snape by her side. They looked like young lovers, the way Draco and I had looked back in fourth year.

            “Hello,” I said to my mother’s portrait.

            “Hello. You must be Harry. Severus told me about you,” Portrait Lily replied.

            “Snape?” I asked the teenaged boy painted by her side.

            The dark greasy haired teenager with the overly large hooked nose sneered at me and said, “That’s my father’s name.”

            I started crying then, wishing things could have been different. If only my mother had chosen Snape instead of my father, then Voldemort would have never come after any of us. Or if Voldemort had accepted Snape’s offer to marry my mother and keep me out of trouble, then only my father would have had to die. But as it was, all my parental figures were dead. Not just my parents and Snape, but Dumbledore and Sirius too. All gone, because of me.

            Scorpius flung himself at me, arms outstretched to hug me, from where he sat perched on Draco’s hip. “It OK, Totta. It OK,” he said.

            I reached over and took my son from Draco, grateful that Draco allowed it, and hugged the child to my chest as I cried. I may have lost Draco, but I hadn’t lost Scorpius.

            “Severus always said the Malfoy child had Lily’s kind heart,” Goldstein said.

            Maybe that was the mysterious way my son resembled my mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Please review!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of you readers pointed out that the portrait of Lily and Snape is not canon. By writing that I did not mean to change the canon relationship between the real Lily and Snape. Paintings are not exact replicas of the people portrayed and this one is quite inaccurate, because it was painted by Snape and then spent several decades in isolation from reality. Portrait Snape managed to woo Portrait Lily, nothing more. I don’t plan on having Harry spend a lot of time with the portrait, but if he did, he’d eventually realize that Portrait Lily is only surface deep.

            The next day being Sunday, was the last day I had to work on the incredibly complex play-castle garage thing, before I started baby-sitting duties while Draco received tutoring in charms. A really long, drawn out project had seemed just the thing when Draco was threatening to never let me see my son again, but now, four days in, I wanted it done already. The slide and the stairs were enough, weren’t they? Scorpius could just park his tricycle underneath that and be done with it.

            That was what was running through my mind as I rushed to the beach house that Sunday morning. I went inside to greet Draco and Scorpius, once again noting that Scorpius was being fed fruit puree with oatmeal and wearing new pajamas and a new bib. I began to wonder why Draco fed the child the same thing every morning, but I didn’t have time to ask questions. I had to get to work and I told Draco just that.

            I spent the morning with Dobby and Kreacher, getting first the slide, then the stairs assembled. While we worked, Draco and Scorpius came out, and as usual, my son rode the tricycle, played in the sand, and splashed in the waves. Then they went inside, but the elves and I stayed outside to get the rope ladder secured just right.

            I was just laying out the pieces for the swing, when Snotty appeared, bowed his nose to the ground, and announced, “It be lunchtime. Snotty is to be inviting Harry Potter to lunch with my masters, sirs.”

            That surprised me, because I’d assumed Draco would just forget about me out here and I had so much to do, that I’d been about to work through lunch to get it all done. “Really?” I asked, setting down the length of wood in my hands.

            “Yes. Master Draco, sir, be telling Snotty to invite Harry Potter for lunch,” Snotty repeated.

            I didn’t need to be told three times. I told Dobby and Kreacher to take a break and rushed inside to find Draco and Scorpius sitting at the dining room table. Scorpius had a tray with biscuits, diced fruit, and little pieces of broccoli and was feeding himself with his fingers. Draco had a bowl of stew.

            I sat down and said, “Thank you for inviting me.”

            “No! Bad Totta elf. Up!” Scorpius exclaimed, making an upward gesture with both hands.

            “It’s okay, Scorpius. Totta elves can sit at the table, but only the Totta kind,” Draco said.

            “Totta no up?” Scorpius asked, brows knitted.

            “No, Scorpius. Totta isn’t really an elf. He can sit,” Draco confirmed.

            “Er, thanks. Could I eat human food too? Only I’m not much of a fan of moldy bread and grubs,” I joked, recalling a time I’d seen Kreacher eating a meal of just that. I didn’t know if elves preferred such foods, or if they were forced to eat them and got used to them.

            “Ew. We don’t let our elves eat like barbarians here,” Draco replied.

            A bowl of stew materialized in front of me and I dug in. It was delicious, truly on par with Molly’s cooking. I was hungry and ate very quickly.

            “Just out of curiosity, how long do I have to be an elf, before I can be the daddy?” I asked, scraping the bottom of the bowl.

            “Oh, I don’t care. Scorpius is the one who promoted you to elf. I just thought it was cute,” Draco said, motioning towards our baby.

            It was mildly annoying, but I had to admit it was cute. Still, I wanted to be the daddy. “Scorpius, my name isn’t Totta elf. It’s daddy,” I said, but he barely glanced at me as he ate, so I tried again. “Scorpius, I’m your daddy.” Again, he ignored me. At this rate, getting Scorpius on board might be harder than winning Draco back.

            “Harry, I’m not sure he knows what that word means. We don’t use it my family. I think you’ll have to show him,” Draco said kindly.

            I nodded, feeling both defeated by Scorpius and grateful that Draco seemed to be on my side for once.

            Scorpius picked up a piece of broccoli between his little fingers and brought it to his mouth. He stuck out his tongue to taste, made a face, and flung the vegetable on the ground. Next, he went for a piece of diced fruit, pushing it around the tray for a good while before managing to pick it up.

            “So, he does eat things other than oatmeal?” I asked Draco as Scorpius put the cube into his mouth and munched happily.

            “He’s picky. Oatmeal in the only breakfast food he’ll eat and he’ll only eat it, if it’s half fruit puree. He’s not much good with the biscuits either, but they’re supposed to be good for teething and I’m hoping he gets some more teeth soon. Dinner, he does alright with mushy pasta,” Draco answered.

            “He doesn’t have enough teeth?” I asked, leaning forward to get a better look. There were four that I could see.

            “He needs molars, before he can eat anything that isn’t mush. He’s past due for two teeth already; he should have two more on the top, but they’re late. There are another six teeth that he should be getting soon—including molars—according to the books, but I don’t see any sign of them.”

            “Have you taken him to the dentist to have them looked at?” I asked concerned.

            “What’s that? Some Muggle thing?” he asked.

            “Yeah. Um, healers, for your teeth. Hermione’s parents are dentists,” I explained.

            Draco snorted. “No. The only place I’ve ever taken him, was to Spinner’s End yesterday.”

            “What about to see a healer? He should be having regular check-ups, Draco.”

            “Those were a little difficult to arrange with the war, don’t you think?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Besides, both my mother and Snape looked at him and said he’s perfect.”

            “I would still like to take him to a healer. Did you give birth to him without a healer?” I asked concerned.

            Draco shrugged. “Snape and my mother were here. Plenty of babies are delivered with only a midwife. I had two.”

            “Well then I think you both should see a healer. It would make me feel better,” I insisted.

            “When was the last time you saw a healer, Potter?”

            “After the final battle, a healer checked me over.”

            “For injuries. Scorpius and I haven’t been injured,” he said, evading the issue.

            “Why don’t you want to go?” I asked.

            Draco sighed. “It’s too soon. I’m not ready to step back out into the Wizarding World. I don’t want everyone to know I’ve had a child out of wedlock at the age of fifteen…”

            “Er…ah…um…I should…ah…tell, er…” I spluttered.

            “What, Potter?” Draco demanded.

            “It’s just that I gave an interview? With the Quibbler? It’s the magazine Luna Lovegood’s father writes?”

            “What about it?” he pressed.

            “I got a pre-edition, to you know, check it for errors. Um, yesterday? Yeah…” I trailed off.

            “Well hand it over, Potter!” Draco demanded, hand out.

            “I, er, don’t have it on me. I sent it back with my corrections,” I said sheepishly.

            “Well then what does it say about me and my son?” Draco demanded.

            “That I love you,” I admitted.

            “You love me?” Draco asked.

            “Yes, erm, I love you and I love Scorpius. It needs to be put out there. He’s the best thing in my life and I want to claim him. So, I gave an interview. I’ll ask for you to be sent an advanced copy,” I promised.

            “You better. Urg! I can’t believe you put that out there without asking me!?!” Draco exclaimed.

            “Shush, Totta, shush! Fadder shush elf,” Scorpius advised, index finger pressed to his lips.

            I copied the motion, pressing my own index finger to my lips, not knowing what else to do. My son thought I was an elf and that my talking was upsetting Draco, so I would shush.

            “No, it’s okay, Scorpius. Potter isn’t an elf,” Draco said to Scorpius, before turning back to me and using a much sterner voice. “For the record, next time you give an interview and mention me or my son, I would like to approve everything you say _before_ you say it.”

            “Noted. Um, er, I have to get back to work now? The swing part is rather complex and I only have today,” I said, motioning towards the front of the house.

            “You may be excused,” Draco said dryly to me, before turning to Scorpius.

            “Thanks. I still think the pair of you should see a healer. I’ll go with, if you’d like,” I said, getting up.

            “That Potter of yours…” Draco trailed off, talking to Scorpius.

            “My Totta elf ‘ood elf,” Scorpius defended me as I left the room. I smiled at that. He was only sixteen months old, but he was already claiming me and defending me, even if he thought I was some sort of strange elf.

            I went outside, called Dobby and Kreacher, and went back to work. It took all afternoon, but together we got the swing part up. Being summer, the sun didn’t set completely until late, but by five, dark storm clouds rolled in, blocking out what remained of the sun. I had the elves light the area and went back to work, enclosing the area underneath and adding a small door. I had to duck down to get inside, but Scorpius and his tricycle would have no problem getting through.

            I wished I had more time to finish it; to sand and varnish the wood and to decorate the outside like a castle and the inside like a garage, but it was late. Molly would have dinner on the table and the Weasleys would be waiting for me. I’d have to put the finishing touches on another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review!


	29. Chapter 29

            The following morning, Draco went upstairs with Tutor Lusby to practice charms and left me alone with Scorpius in the nursery. My expectations were high, because I’d finally have my son to myself for two whole hours. Maybe he’d be the sweet little boy who wanted to cuddle and I could hold him. Or maybe we’d play together and have a great time bonding.

            Draco dressed Scorpius in Muggle trousers and t-shirt and left me with a list of chores, so I figured I’d get the chores out of the way. First on the list, was the laundry. Now that Scorpius had a proper wardrobe, the dirty clothes needed to be gathered, Snotty had to clean them, and then they needed to be put away. So, I searched the nursery for clothes while Scorpius played. Then I led my son to the sitting room and searched there for dirty clothes. But by the time I took his hand to go to the dining room in search of a pile of dirty bibs I knew to be located there, Scorpius had had it.

            Scorpius ran from me, down the hallway, into the mudroom, and starting banging on the front door, shouting, “Go go go!”

            “I’m sorry, Scorpius. Daddy can’t take you outside to play. We have to do chores and play inside today,” I said, trying to scoop my son up into my arms.

            But then Scorpius twisted and broke free from me and ran in the other direction, back down the hall. The dining room was in that direction, so I followed. Scorpius stopped to pull at a doorknob to a closet and I let him, using the time to duck into the dining room to fetch the pile of dirty bibs.

            I came out of the dining room just in time to see Scorpius mounting a baby broom and taking off, flying back down the hall. I dropped the bibs where I was and ran after.

            Scorpius nudged the partially open door to Draco’s room, opening the door further, and flew inside. I was on his heels, but once I got inside, I was momentarily distracted, because I’d never been in Draco’s room before. I wanted to snoop around. But there was an open window, curtains fluttering in the sea breeze, and Scorpius headed straight out it, with a shout of, “Go, go, go!”

            I abandoned my snooping and lunged for my son, catching hold of the end of the broom. My weight applied unevenly caused the little broom to pitch, destabilize, and buck Scorpius off. Then Scorpius was suspended out the window, held in the air only by his quick instincts to grab the broom handle. I pulled out my wand, cast Wingardium Leviosa, and levitated Scorpius back to me, balancing him on my hip. I shut the window and cast a locking charm on it for good measure. Then I picked up the toy broom and said, “We will have to put your broom up, so you don’t get it again.”

            “No! Bad elf! My Boooom!” Scorpius insisted sternly as I walked back to the closet.

            Just as I was about to lock the broom away in the closet, Scorpius let off one of his light and sound explosions, threw himself out of my arms, and made a grab for the broom. Caught off guard, I fell back on my arse and stared stunned for a moment, before I realized that Scorpius once again had the broom and was mounting it.

            I jumped up, plucked my baby off the broom, and said, “Oh no you don’t! No flying in the house.”

            “Ye fy! Bad elf! My booom!” Scorpius shouted back.

            “You need to wait til later for Father to fly with us. Daddy was told to keep you in the nursery. Come on,” I began to say as I put the broom back in the closet, again.

            But then Scorpius threw one of his all out tantrums, magic crackling in the air, storm clouds materializing in the house, complete with a bolt of lightning that struck me. I fell, Scorpius in my arms, broom not quite locked up, dizzy with the effects of electricity running through my body.

            Once again, Scorpius went for the broom. This time, I was not prepared to catch him. Instead, I whipped out my wand and cast a protective bubble around my son. Then I lay back, panting on the floor as I recovered, while Scorpius tested the limits of his bubble confines.

            Scorpius poked the bubble, indenting it, but not breaking it. Then he jabbed at it to the same effect. Kicking, hitting, and screaming produced the same result. All out toddler-style tantrum; almost the same effect. When his little body rolled and flipped in his fit, the bubble rolled and moved with him. That was new. He stopped screaming, stood up, and took a step. The bubble moved with him. Then he ran and the bubble rolled along under his feet.

            I forced myself up, securely locked up the broom before Scorpius could go after it again, and followed my son in his bubble.

            Scorpius ran around the house, laughing and shrieking in merriment, testing the limits of his bubble. He couldn’t play with any of his toys or get into anything, trapped as he was, but the bubble itself was the toy.

            I gathered laundry and closed doors behind us as I followed Scorpius into each room and then back out. I quickly discovered that I didn’t have time to properly search each room, before Scorpius would be off again, so I started Accioing the dirty laundry. That resulted in teeny little socks, undershirts, and nappies appearing from every crack in the house.

            Eventually though, I had a prodigious pile of dirty clothes in the sitting room and I ordered Snotty to clean and fold them. Snotty did. The elf translocated the clothes that belonged to Draco to Draco’s room, left the things that belonged to neither Draco nor Scorpius on the desk in the sitting room, and gave me two giant piles of clothes for Scorpius.

            “Come on, let’s go play with our toys,” I called to my son as I went back into the nursery and set the clean clothes on top of the dresser.

            Scorpius rolled into the room after me. I shut and locked the door and then removed the bubble charm, as I picked my son up in my arms.

            “You need to be a good boy for Daddy. Daddy will be in trouble with Father if you’re a bad boy and then Daddy might not get to watch you, while Father goes to school,” I explained.

            “Me ‘ood. Totta elf bad,” Scorpius replied sternly.

            I sighed. If I was an elf, then maybe I was a bad one, because I hadn’t let Scorpius do whatever he wanted. But as a dad, I couldn’t pretend to be an elf and let my son get into dangerous situations. I was in charge and watching him.

            “I’m Daddy while Father is at school, not Totta elf. A daddy is like a father. You’re my baby. I’m in charge,” I explained, not knowing whether a one-year-old would understand.

            “No, you Totta elf. Me no elf baby,” Scorpius retorted, shaking his head.

            “Well could you pretend to be my little elf baby? Maybe you could let Daddy rock you and hold you? I’m not much good at singing, but I could try,” I offered.

            Scorpius gave it some thought, index finger in his mouth. But instead of giving me an answer, he noticed one of his toys and lunged for it. I let him go and watched as he retrieved a wooden box full of holes, opened it, and poured out blocks of varying shapes. He then sat down in front of it and started to play.

            Relieved that I no longer had an escape artist on my hands, I went back to the laundry. The new clothes all had spots for them and were easily put away. The old clothes, including a pile of formally missing socks, was more work. I picked out the yellow sock that went missing last week, found its pair, and put them away. Then I did the same for all the other socks in the dresser pile with newly found mates. Finally, I was left with a much smaller pile of socks that seemed hopelessly unmated, which I put into the dresser. Then there were the clothes that were too small for Scorpius. I sorted them, removing the ones that were terribly stained or had holes. I put the ones that were still good in the trunk of old clothes that now resided on the top shelf of Scorpius’ closet. The rest, I vanished.

            That left me with clean nappies, bibs, and linens. Using a spell, I put fresh sheets in Scorpius’ crib and levitated the old ones to the laundry bin. The rest of the clean linens, I put into a drawer in the changing table. I took half the nappies and added them to the dwindling stack of nappies on the changing table, and left the bibs and rest of the nappies to put away later.

            Scorpius noticed me waving my wand around. He stood up and watched me work for a while, index finger in his mouth. When I finished, he toddled over to me and thinking he wanted a hug, I bent down to take him into my arms. But he made a grab for my wand, saying, “No elf. Bad elf.” Then there was a string of important sounding gibberish, with a lot of w sounds in it.

            “No, Scorpius, this is my wand. I’m a wizard,” I replied, pulling my wand out of his grasp and raising it into the air.

            “Totta elf!” Scorpius retorted.

            “I’m not Totta elf right now, Scorpius, I’m Daddy the Wizard. I need my wand to take care of you and do my chores, or Father will be cross with Daddy.”

            Scorpius’ brow furrowed in anger and he shouted out, “My!” and jumped up.

            He wasn’t that tall, so I had no idea he could jump as high as he could. I was thus unprepared for him actually getting my wand. But as soon as he did grab it from me, he rolled away and ran to the nursery room window.

            I ran after, calling, “Scorpius, give me my wand back right this instant!”

            Scorpius turned and stood to fight, wand drawn. He waved it around in a cheap imitation of how it was actually used, which was kind of cute, until he non-verbally managed to bind me in ropes and open his window. He tucked my wand into his trousers and said, “Bad elf stay. Me go go go,” in a tone I would have called sweet or comforting, if I wasn’t bound.

            “No, don’t you dare go, go, go, young man!” I shouted as my son crawled onto the window sill. “Stop this instant! I mean it, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy! You are in so much trouble!”

            He jumped, leaving me alone and bound in the nursery. I closed my eyes and concentrated on breaking the Incarcerous without my wand. Having some training in just this type of magic, despite having yet to start my Auror training, I managed it in only a few seconds. And then I was off, through the nursery window, out in the garden, looking for my son.

            Scorpius was clinging to an ivy vine several feet off the ground, evidentially having climbed up there, to reach some floating Dirigible Plums, which he was eating. Despite only having four teeth, he was happily munching on a ripe piece of fruit, orange juiced dripping down his chin and all over his shirt.

            After everything I’d been through this morning, I didn’t see the harm in letting my son have a few Dirigible Plums. I retrieved my wand from his trousers, and sat down and watched, wand out, ready to cast a levitating spell if he should slip and fall. And while I was at it, I cast a cushioning spell on the ground. Then I noticed the gate to the garden was open and spelled that closed and locked, for good measure.

            Scorpius ate three Dirigible Plums and then jumped down and crawled over to get to a mulberry bush. He then proceeded to pick mulberries off the bush and pop them into his mouth, with hitherto unseen dexterity. Maybe mealtimes would go easier, if Draco let Scorpius out in the garden to eat like this.

            Scorpius ate, until he was covered in black mulberry juice, on top of the orange Dirigible Plum juice. He then threw himself on the dirt ground, grabbed his bulging tummy, and whined.

            “Did you get a tummy ache from eating too much, my sweet little boy?” I asked, scooping Scorpius up.

            Scorpius nodded.

            Only now that he appeared to be in pain, did I recall that it wasn’t one of his mealtimes and that was a lot of fruit for a baby. Draco had fed him oatmeal and fruit this morning and nursed him to boot. It wasn’t lunch time yet. He should already have been full. No wonder he had a tummy ache.

            I carried Scorpius back through the nursery window, spelling it closed and locked as I passed, and sat down in the rocker to comfort my son.

            “Next time, maybe you shouldn’t eat so much. Eating all that food made your tummy hurt,” I explained as I gently rocked my baby. I had wanted to hold him and rock him, but I hadn’t wanted him to be in pain. I hadn’t wanted to turn him into Dudley either and Dudley was just who my son reminded me of, as he lay there in pain from over-eating. Was this how it started? A few too many berries and plums now; an obese child later?

            “Ugh…” Scorpius replied, still clutching his stomach.

            After a good ten minutes had passed like this, with me holding and comforting my son and Scorpius moaning in pain, I decided to do something about it. I got up to place Scorpius in his crib, but he protested when I went to lay him down, grunting, whining, whispering, “No,” and clutching at my arms.

            “Just for a second, sweet boy. Daddy just needs to get a potion to fix you. Just give Daddy a second to find the potion,” I said, stroking Scorpius’ back gently, soothing him.

            “Sape?” Scorpius asked in a broken voice.

            “Yes, a potion like your godfather, Snape, made. I’ll be right back,” I said.

            He let me go then. I rushed to the bag I’d brought with me, pulled out the book I’d been given back in fourth year with baby potions, and found the one to relieve tummy aches. Once I had the name and description of it, I searched the potions cupboard in the bathroom until I found a vial of it. Then I returned to the nursery.

            Scorpius was kneeling in his crib, face pressed against the bars, grunting in pain.

            I immediately went to pick my son up and got him to take the potion. The pain and the grunting didn’t stop immediately, but Scorpius did want to be put down. I set him on his two little feet and he toddled over to the potty, grabbing up the doll from where she lay on the floor and clutching her to his chest. He grunted louder then, face scrunching up and turning red with the effort. And then I smelt it; he was pooping.

            For a second, I didn’t know what to do. Should I remove Scorpius’ clothes and nappy and put him on the potty? Was Draco potty training him yet, or just getting him used to the potty?

            Finally, I decided to ask my son, “Do you want to sit on the potty?”

            “No!” Scorpius bit out in between grunts.

            I backed off, letting him do his business. He wasn’t ready and I wasn’t going to force him. After all, he still thought I was an elf and that he didn’t have to listen to me.

            The smell steadily grew worse, making breathing very unpleasant.

            Scorpius cried when he finished grunting, pointing to his butt and saying, “Poo-poo.”

            “Come here, Daddy will change you,” I said, picking Scorpius up and taking him to the changing table.

            Off went the shoes, then the trousers. I was going to leave the shirt on and just pull up the undershirt, but then I realized the nappy was leaking up Scorpius’ back. I quickly pulled off the shirt, before it could be ruined. Then I was left with a crying toddler, diarrhea spreading up his back, and wondered how I was supposed to handle this. If I removed the undershirt, the feces would spread. But if I didn’t remove the undershirt, I couldn’t get to the nappy, which was the source of the problem.

            Eventually, I vanished the undershirt and the nappy, cleaned Scorpius’ butt with the nappy changing spell from fourth year, and put a new nappy on. I realized then why Scorpius had owned fewer undershirts than came in a package and also that I might need to buy more in the near future. A lot more. I might need to buy nappies too, if I was going to vanish the nasty ones.

            Then Scorpius was naked and really ought to be having a bath. I cast a Tempest charm and realized that there was no reason to redress him. In a few minutes, Draco would come down from his upstairs tutoring session, and whisk Scorpius into the tub.

            So I picked my son up, put him on my hip, and went about cleaning up. His dirty clothes went in the laundry hamper. Then I took the nappies I’d set aside earlier to the changing table in the sitting room. And finally, I levitated toys back into place, so that there was a walkway in the nursery again.

            That’s what I was doing when Draco came in looking exhausted.

            “How was class?” I asked, Scorpius in one arm, resting on my hip, blocks levitated by the wand in my other hand, as I moved to put them in their proper bin.

            “Hard. Why is Scorpius naked?” Draco asked.

            “He just pooped. A really big messy one. He needs a bath, so I figured there was no reason to put his clothes back on,” I explained.

            “He normally doesn’t go until after lunch. And they are normally not messy. What did you do to him?” Draco accused, eyes narrowing on me as he took our naked baby from me.

            “Mums an’ yummies,” Scorpius told on me.

            “Plums and yummies? From the garden?” Draco asked Scorpius.

            Scorpius nodded.

            I looked down at my shoes sheepishly and rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, er, he really wanted to play outside and was quite the handful this morning. When he escaped out the window only to eat plums and berries in the garden, I thought it couldn’t hurt to let him have some.”

            “Scorpius loves fruit. All he would eat, if he had his way, is milk and fruit. He needs oatmeal, noodles, and meat to make a balanced diet. Otherwise, fruit on top of fruit leads to diarrhea. If you are going to continue watching him for me, you will have to make sure this doesn’t happen again,” Draco lectured.

            I nodded solemnly. “I’ll do better next time. I tried; honest.”

            Draco nodded, then turned to Scorpius and said, “I hope you got him good.”

            “Totta bad elf,” Scorpius replied.

            “Was he now? Should he be punished?” Draco asked with a smirk.

            Scorpius nodded and confirmed, “Shush an’ No.” At least he didn’t suggest cruel punishments.

            “Did you put him in his place?” Draco asked.

            Scorpius nodded.

            I groaned and whined, “Draco, you really are not making this easy for me. He wouldn’t listen to me. He treated me like an elf!”

            “It’s about time you have to deal with what I do. I’m glad he gave you a hard time. But you do have a point,” Draco said to me, before focusing again on our son. “Scorpius, when Potter is watching you, he is your daddy. You have to listen to him.”

            “Me no elf!” Scorpius retorted, shaking his head.

            “Potter is not an elf either. He just pretends to be an elf, when he’s not watching you. He’s your daddy and you have to listen to him,” Draco insisted.

            “No!” Scorpius insisted.

            Draco sighed and looked to me. “I don’t know what else to do.”

            I sighed too. “I guess we just have to give him time,” I said.

            Draco nodded. “You can go now. Same time tomorrow,” Draco said to me.

            I sighed in defeat and then said, “I’ll go, but I’ll be back after naptime to do some more work on the play castle.”

            I could probably sand and varnish it today, although decorating it would have to wait for another day. I didn’t want to put it off too long, because Auror training would be starting soon. I’d already owled Robards about not start training sessions until eleven, so that I could spend the mornings with my son. I couldn’t take days off to build play houses too. And I needed the money, because I was now paying rent on a space that was only being used for Draco to have somewhere quiet to learn charms.

            Draco nodded, Scorpius waved, and I left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favorite chapter in this story. I hope you all like it as much as I do. Please Review!


	30. Chapter 30

            Scorpius continued to be a handful while I watched him. He wanted to play outside every morning, so I eventually gave in, put up a fence around the play-castle and took him out to use the slide, swings, and ride his tricycle in and out of the garage. I was very proud of myself for finishing something that my son enjoyed so much. The controlled outdoor play made our time together run smoother, but he still called me Totta elf and not Daddy and didn’t always listen to me like I was a human.

            The following week was worse, because those two top teeth that were overdue started coming in. Both of them, at the same time. Scorpius was whiney and fussy all the time, trying to gnaw on everything. I had to keep him supplied with iced teething rings and teething potion or else he was miserable. And it didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, because Draco looked in Scorpius’ mouth and announced that he could finally see another two teeth coming in on the bottom front. Our son would soon have eight teeth, instead of four. It was good in terms of his ability to eat real food, but bad for me, because I felt like I’d been shoved in the deep end and didn’t know how to swim with this teething business. And none of these teeth were molars, so they didn’t make that big a difference anyway.

            The advanced copy of the Quibbler arrived that Friday and I immediately gave it to Draco, first thing in the morning. He took it with him to his charms practice, saying only that he didn’t have time to read it right then. After charms, he made no mention of it and Scorpius had had a particularly bad time with his teething, so I was exhausted and went home without asking.

            The following Monday, Auror training started. Class went from eleven am to seven pm, because of me and my request for a late start. Ron was the first to complain, because he knew it was my doing and his mum always had dinner on the table by seven sharp, making him late. After that, I had to deal with the entire class knowing I was getting special treatment. I hated special treatment, but this time, I needed it. Scorpius was still teething and Draco had to earn his OWLs. And it wasn’t like my life was a walk in the park either, because I came in exhausted at eleven, from two plus hours caring for a whiney toddler.

            On the plus side, my life seemed to be moving in the right direction. I now spent two hours with my son every morning. I was in training, on my way to being a real Auror, with a paycheck coming in each month that covered my rent and expenditures, not counting the support payments for Draco and Scorpius, which were still coming out of my parent’s money for another year. And best of all, after I rushed in almost late to watch Scorpius one morning, explaining that I was exhausted from training the night before, Draco offered that I could move into the upstairs I was renting.

            It was only after he suggested it, that I finally looked around. It was a little smaller than the downstairs, but not by much. There were three bedrooms, a sitting room, two loos, and even a dining nook. The floor plan was quite similar to the first floor, except there was a patio in place of the mudroom and a third bedroom instead of the kitchen. The third bedroom was the largest in the house, with its own loo. It was clearly the master bedroom and I took it for myself. I would’ve taken the sitting room too, but that was where Draco and Lusby had set up their Charms classroom, so I took the bedroom above Draco’s for my office. I didn’t really have a use for the other bedroom and left it as a guestroom.

            Draco was making progress with his schooling too. Lusby proclaimed that after their intense five-day a week program, Draco had caught up to fourth year level. To prove it, he had Draco sit all the fourth-year exams that were missed when Draco went into hiding. Sure enough, Draco passed Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, Astronomy, and even History of Magic, of all things. He got a Poor in Care of Magical Creatures and a Dreadful in Transfigurations. He wasn’t using either of the classes he failed in his daily life and opted to drop them, at least for now. So with the aid of two new tutors, in addition to Lusby, he was going forward with his OWL year material in his three most needed subjects: Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms. Next year he could get OWLs in another three subjects. Then when Scorpius is ready for preschool, Draco could start his NEWTs.

 

* * *

 

 

            At the end of every month of Auror training, we had testing, both physical and theory. The day after testing, we had off, to recover from the testing and so our results could be evaluated by our trainers. I didn’t really need to rest, because Auror training just came naturally to me. Instead on my day off, I scheduled three healer’s appointments: one for Scorpius, one for Draco, and one for me. I didn’t think I needed mine, but Draco didn’t think he had to go if I didn’t have to go, so we were all going.

            I went first, with Draco and Scorpius in the room with me to watch as I let a healer I didn’t know poke and prod at me. Diagnostic spells were cast on me. I peed in a cup and spells were cast on that. My heartbeat filled the room and was studied for irregularities. And a sample of my hair was plucked from my scalp, stirred into a nasty looking potion that apparently revealed that I had minor curse damage to my lungs. I was given instructions for a potion to take to correct the damage.

            With my physical over with, Scorpius went next. The poking, prodding, and diagnostic spells and potions were repeated. Additionally, every part of our son was measured and plotted on a growth chart. To me, everything looked normal and I thought Draco and I were about to be told that Scorpius had a clean bill of health.

            The examination over, Draco let a restless Scorpius down to play with some toys in the corner of the examination room.

            “Mr. Malfoy, Auror Potter, Scorpius is in good health. There is just one congenital condition you should be aware of,” the healer concluded.

            “What?” I asked surprised.

            “What?” Draco asked concerned, hand gripping mine.

            “He is a Fairy. I’m sure this does not come as totally unexpected, given it runs in your family, Mr. Malfoy and you yourself have two of these conditions,” the healer answered.

            “We are not Fairies!” Draco yelled, offended. Then he leaned against me, covering his face in my robes and I knew he was crying. He was taking it harder than I thought he would and I wondered if he was blaming himself, or if he hated his condition that much that he couldn’t stand the thought of it being passed to our son. I’d already made my decision to love Scorpius, regardless, and although I was a little concerned and a lot skeptical, I was not upset.

            “Please do not use that term. Draco is a man and our son is a boy,” I said on Draco’s behalf. He had never told me why he found the term so offensive, but I knew he did and that he thought of himself as the same as any other wizard.

            “If you do not like the term, we do not have to use it. But, your child is not just a boy, Auror Potter,” the healer replied.

            “No, it can’t be. I’ve changed his nappy. He has bollocks,” I protested.

            The healer nodded. “He does indeed. I suspect that he will have no fertility issues as a wizard. It looks to me like his own magic has healed him. It’s a good thing his magical core formed so early. When he grows up, he should have no problems getting a witch pregnant. But, he does have persistent Müllerian duct syndrome. A uterus and set of fallopian tubes are present. This is not enough to mean he can become pregnant naturally, because he is lacking the vagina and ovaries. But he could become pregnant magically with more ease than the typical male and there are medical concerns you need to watch out for.”

            “Like what?” I asked.

            “Well, as long as his testes develop normally and produce testosterone, the uterus should be repressed from going down its normal route to producing a blood lining that is shed monthly in a period. Though, there is always the risk that something could happen and he could build up that lining. Without an opening for the uterus, the blood will be trapped in his body, allowing bacteria to grow and lead to sepsis. During his teenaged years, he needs to be watched very closely for stomach aches and fevers. These are signs that this is happening and needs immediate medical treatment, to create an opening for the blood to drain,” the healer answered.

            “Will he be able to get pregnant, if he has a period?” I asked, concerned I’d have to worry about teenaged pregnancies all over again in another decade or so.

            “No, not unless there is magic involved. His gonads are located in his scrotum and appear to be proper testicles, not ovaries. Without ovaries connected to those fallopian tubes of his, there is no way for him to get pregnant,” the healer answered.

            “What would cause him to have a period, if he doesn’t have ovaries?” Draco asked in a small, scared voice.

            “If he wasn’t making enough testosterone and somehow ingested a large enough quantity of estrogen, the female hormone. It can be found in some plants, especially legumes, like soy beans. Keep him away from all soy-based foods and limit his legume consumption,” the healer said.

            “That’s it? Don’t let him eat legumes and he’ll be fine?” I asked, anxious, but on my way to being relieved.

            “Yes. Although, the Muggles are manufacturing estrogen for some incomprehensible reason, and they are beginning to see it abused in their youths. Boys are taking it and pretending to be girls. We haven’t had a case of it in here in a couple years, but Muggle drugs do tend to spread to the Wizarding World, especially to our impressionable teenagers. You should watch him, to make sure he does not take anything that looks like Muggle pills,” the healer answered.

            “All right,” I said. I knew about worse things the Muggles put in pill form, so I had no problem keeping that sort of thing away from my son. Although, I hadn’t been aware Muggles were getting high off Muggle estrogen pills. I figured it was a new fad that I’d missed, because I’d gone to school in the Wizarding World.

            “Is that all we need to know?” Draco asked.

            “You should also be aware that he is a carrier of your other condition, 5 alpha reductase deficiency, Mr. Malfoy. He does _not_ have that condition, but he could give it to your grandchildren,” the healer concluded.

            “Noted,” Draco replied.

            “When does he need his next check-up?” I asked the healer.

            “I did the eighteen months one today, even though it’s a week early. He won’t need another until he is two. Then it’s once a year from then on out,” the healer answered.

            “Great. Come on, let’s go,” Draco said, picking up our son to leave and extracting the toy Scorpius had been playing with from his little hand.

            “Wait, Draco! You still have your appointment,” I protested.

            “I don’t feel like it,” Draco replied.

            “Mr. Malfoy, you gave birth since the last time you had a physical. You need a gynecological examination, to make sure everything healed properly,” the healer insisted. After all, Draco was his next scheduled appointment.

            “I don’t want one,” Draco protested.

            “If you would feel more comfortable with a witch for a healer, I can ask one of my colleagues to see you,” the healer replied.

            “I don’t like being touched. Down there,” Draco said, busying himself with straightening Scorpius’ hair and not looking at the healer.

            “An exam could be done without that step. It would not be as thorough, but it would be good enough,” the healer said.

            Draco nodded. He agreed to a female healer and to be examined with his pants on.

            Scorpius and I weren’t allowed in the room. I stood outside, Scorpius on my hip, as we waited for Draco’s examination.

            “Go, go, go,” Scorpius said excitedly, pointing down the hallway. This place was new and he wanted to explore.

            “Stay, stay, stay, sweet baby,” I replied.

            “No, Totta, go. Go, go, go,” Scorpius said, taking my face in his little hands for emphasis.

            “We have to wait for your father. I think he’s scared,” I replied.

            “Fadder cry?” Scorpius asked.

            “No, Father’s brave. He won’t cry, if we stay here where he can see us,” I answered.

            Scorpius nodded and was patient and quiet for all of a minute. Then he whined, “Totta elf! Me go, go, go!”

            “My name is Daddy, Scorpius. Daddy. Dad-dy. Daddy. I am not a Totta elf,” I said, trying to get him to learn my name. I’d been working on this with him for weeks now.

            “Da-dy. Totta. Elf. Go. Go. Go,” Scorpius enunciated each word, looking into my eyes.

            “Not Daddy Totta elf, just Daddy,” I corrected.

            “Da-dy. Go,” Scorpius whined, waving his arms in the direction of the hallway he wanted to explore.

            He’d finally said my name! My face lit up so much that it hurt from smiling so widely. “Okay, we’ll go, but only a little ways,” I acquiesced.

            I walked down the hall and back. Draco still wasn’t done, so I put Scorpius down and held his hand as we went over the same route again. We made the trip a third time, but on the way back, Scorpius found magazines he could get into and rip, so I had to scoop him up and carry him away.

            “Fadder go, go, go?” Scorpius asked.

            “Soon. Very soon,” I said.

            Scorpius fussed and whined and was bordering on throwing a fit, before Draco was finished.

            “How did it go?” I asked, handing Scorpius over to Draco.

            “I am in perfect health, thank you very much. Honestly, you get on about my health, when you are the one with curse damage,” Draco replied, shaking his head.

            A female healer came out of the examination room, clipboard in hand, and said, “Mr. Malfoy, you forgot your form. You need to be seen every month.”

            Draco groaned, snatching up the form. “I told you, I’m fine. I’m never going to have another child, because I’m not married, so this doesn’t even matter,” he said tearing up the form.

            “Draco! What’s going on?” I asked concerned.

            “Nothing. Drop it, Potter,” Draco replied to me, before turning to the healer. “Good day.”

            Then Draco started walking to the floo, Scorpius still in his arms. I followed, but I didn’t let up.

            “Draco, just tell me what’s wrong! If it’s treatable, you need to let them treat you!” I insisted as we walked.

            “There’s no treatment needed. They just want to monitor me,” he replied, approaching the floo.

            He flooed with Scorpius back to the beach house and I followed, flooing in right behind them. We didn’t miss a beat with our conversation.

            “If you want me to take this potion for my lungs, then you better at least tell me what they want to monitor you for,” I threatened, holding up the details of the potion I was to take and preparing to tear it up. Okay, so maybe I was a little reckless with my health, but my lungs weren’t bothering me.

            Draco groaned and set Scorpius down.

            Scorpius took off shouting, “Go, go, go!” and started banging on the front door in the mudroom.

            “It’s really none of your business, but if you really _must_ know, I haven’t had a period since I had Scorpius. There’s nothing wrong with not having a period after having a baby. In fact, it’s _normal_. As long as I am breast feeding, which I am, my body suppresses the whole bloody cycle. They just want to get paid for doing nothing,” Draco said.

            “So, you can’t get pregnant again while you are breastfeeding?” I asked.

            He nodded. “But it doesn’t matter, because I don’t want another child. Scorpius is enough. Now if you will excuse me, Scorpius still has some time to play outside, before he needs his bath,” Draco said, walking towards the mudroom to let Scorpius outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is delayed; I’ve been feeling sick.  
> Please Review!


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry if the last chapter offended anyone. The part about Muggle kids taking estrogen as a fad was a joke, but the joke was not that being trans is a fad. The joke was that because Harry had no knowledge of the issue and is out of touch with the Muggle world, he assumed the kids were somehow getting high off the estrogen.

            I took the potion for my lungs and nothing further was said about Draco’s lack of a monthly period or Scorpius’ extra organs. But I did feel the need to talk to someone about it, so I wrote my best friend, Hermione. I had to write, because she’d gone back to Hogwarts to finish her seventh year. It felt really strange that such an integral part of my life was away, but Ron and I both understood how important her education was to her and we were keeping in touch with regular owls.

            It took longer than I expected to get a reply back from Hermione, but when the owl did arrive, it came with a letter and large package, which turned out to be a book.

 

_Dear Harry,_

_I am glad to hear that everything went well with the healer. I hope you do not need me to remind you to take the potion for your lungs- you don’t want your lungs to give out on you when you are cornering a criminal._

_I am disappointed in you about the estrogen pill thing. As someone who is in love with Draco Malfoy, I would think you would be more sensitive to issues dealing with gender identity. Honestly Harry, if you care about him and your son as much as you say you do, you really need to get your head out of your arse and do some research. I have attached a book on the subject. I hope you read it and take this issue seriously, because Draco is never going to take you back, if you’re an insensitive berk._

_My Herbology assignment is going well. It may even be better than Neville’s! He’s really been slacking of late, because Hannah Abbot agreed to go out with him. He’s been spending more time snogging in the Astronomy Tower, than he has in the Greenhouse._

_Seamus blew up his porcupine in Transfigurations! The new Transfigurations teacher gave him detention for a week! She doesn’t seem to have much experience teaching, because she’s never seen someone blow something up while trying to transfigure it. Obviously, she never met someone like Seamus before._

_That’s pretty much all that has happened around here. I have a new study schedule I’m trying out and am eager to get back to it._

_Love, Hermione_

_P.S. Read the book_

 

            After reading her letter, I wasn’t sure why Hermione was mad at me about the estrogen pill thing. All I’d done was relay the healer’s concern about teenagers abusing them to get high. It wasn’t until I sat down and read the introduction of the textbook on gender identity that I realized my mistake: Muggles weren’t taking the pills to get high. They were taking them as part of gender transitioning. I’d never heard of it before, but apparently there were people out there whose bodies didn’t match the gender of their brains. It wasn’t a new drug fad at all.

            I had a lot on my plate with Scorpius and Auror training, but this book seemed important and it intrigued me, so I made time to read it on the weekend. It started off with more information on the issue and then went into the psychology involved. It must be so confusing to be living in a body that doesn’t match the gender your brain identifies with. And when learning about this issue, I finally realized why Draco was so offended by the term Fairy: Draco’s brain was male. His body was meant to be male too. He had a genetic condition that made some of his sex organs appear female and allowed him to give birth, but that didn’t change who he was. He was a wizard and having two so-called, “Fairy conditions,” did not define him. He was a man dealing with medical issues, not a Fairy. A term like Fairy that identified a third gender in between male and female, was only okay, if the people being labeled identified that way.

             I felt like I was soaring through the sky on a broom as the realization set in. I’d always known my Draco was a wizard. I’d always been supportive of him, especially when it came to not using the term Fairy, because it was his body and I figured he was the authority on it. But now I understood why he felt the way he did! I _understood_ him, in a way I hadn’t before! I felt bad for not trying harder to understand from the beginning, Hermione’s letter ringing in my head, because it was all so simple.

            I sat in my room at the beach house, staring off into space, thinking about this wonderful revelation over and over again, until there was a knock on my door, followed by the sound of little fists banging on it.

            “Harry, Scorpius is wondering if you are going to the park with us this morning! It snowed inland, so we are going to play in the snow,” Draco called through the door.

            “Go, go, go, Daddy!” Scorpius seconded.

            I put my book down and answered the door, revealing Draco with our son at his heels. “Of course! I’d love too!”

            “You look happy today,” Draco said, chin motioning in my direction.

            My hand went to my face as I realized I was grinning from ear to ear.

            “What has you grinning like a buffoon?” Draco asked, as Scorpius ran into my room and started getting into my things.

            “This book Hermione sent me,” I replied.

            “What sort of book could make you smile like that? You aren’t exactly the Granger type.”

            “It’s on gender identity. It explains how it’s possible for the gender in the brain to not match the gender of the body. I think I finally understand why you hate the term Fairy so much, because you’re not one, you’re a wizard,” I explained.

            “Well spotted, Potter. Took you how many years to figure out the obvious?” Draco asked sarcastically.

            “No. I’m not saying this right, am I? I mean, I always knew you were a wizard, I just didn’t understand it all the way.”

            “And now you do?” Draco asked, one eyebrow raised.

            “Maybe?” I hedged. “I hope I do.”

            “All right, let’s test this understanding then. What do I want to do about it?” he challenged.

            I thought back over what I’d read in the book: Muggles were changing the gender of their bodies to match the gender of their brains. This was the only answer I could think of. I’d never considered that Draco would want to transition, but in that moment, I thought that is what he was implying. I said so.

            “What?” Draco asked, completely confused.

            Thinking that this was an issue of vocabulary, because I’d used the Muggle terms and Wizards must have other terms, I opened my textbook and showed Draco some pictures of it. “I don’t know what it’s called in the Wizarding World, but in the Muggle World, they do an operation to change the appearance of the genitals to match the gender of the brain,” I explained.

            Draco peered down at the picture, face blanching. “Muggles _do that_?” he asked.

            “Yes.”

            “That’s barbaric. Maybe the Purebloods are right about Muggles.”

            “Huh?” I asked, confused.

            “There is nothing wrong with my genitalia, Potter. My brain is male and my body is male. I have a few extra parts, but that doesn’t make me any less of a wizard. There is more than one way to be a wizard and just because I am not built the typical way, does not mean I need to butcher my body to fit your idea of gender. I’m a Malfoy; we’re perfect the way we are,” he explained haughtily.

            I sighed in relief, “So you don’t want to change your body?”

            “No.”

            “Good! Because your body has always been and will always be, the hottest one I’ve ever seen!” I exclaimed.

            “Then why’d you want me to change it?” he asked with a sneer.

            “I thought that is what you were implying you wanted, when you asked me that. I _never_ wanted you to change, unless it was something you felt you had to do. I love you the way you are, but I’ll support you no matter what,” I answered.

            “What I want to happen, is for idiots like you to get it out of their heads that there is only one way to be a wizard and thinking there is something wrong with people like me. My only problem are idiots like that healer who called Scorpius a Fairy. Who is he to say my son is a Fairy? That’s Scorpius’ decision to make; no one else’s. Until Scorpius tells me otherwise, I’m going to treat him like I would any other boy,” Draco replied.

            “That’s what I want to do too!” I exclaimed, engulfing him in a hug in my excitement.

            Almost as soon as my arms were around him, I realized that I was being rather forward, because he hadn’t given me permission to hug him like this. I was about to pull away, but then he hugged me back! My heart started pounding out of my chest as I realized that he wasn’t rejecting me! My thoughts started racing as I considered whether or not I should kiss him. Would that be too much? Or would it be welcome, because he was finally taking me back!?!

            Before I could decide, I heard the shrill scream of the portrait of Auror Clark, the founder of the Auror department. Every Auror had a portrait of him, so that we could communicate with each other over long distances. I kept mine on my nightstand, but Scorpius had pulled it down and was reaching into the frame, to poke and pull on the two-dimensional image.

            “Auror Potter, I’ve fought off larger giants than this in my time, but this is totally unfair! I’m a portrait! My wand is an optical illusion! How am I supposed to defend myself against this intrusion!?!” the Portrait of Auror Clark demanded.

            “Sorry, sir,” I said, letting Draco go and running to extract the portrait from my son’s grasp.

            “My roarer!” Scorpius exclaimed in protested, pulling as hard as he could on the frame as I took it away from him.

            “No, sorry little man. Portraits are not toys,” I said, putting it up out of reach.

            “Bad Daddy! No!” Scorpius exclaimed, jumping up to try to get it, but he couldn’t reach, because I’d learned my lesson about how high things had to be, to be too high for him.

            “Scorpius, that is not how we talk to our parents. You’re not supposed to talk back to Daddy,” Draco chastised, scooping Scorpius up in his arms.

            I’m not sure when it happened, but Scorpius no longer called me Potter elf. Now I was Daddy and Draco did his best to reinforce my authority with our son, which I was grateful for. But regardless of whether I was the elf or the daddy, Scorpius would always be a handful. He gave Draco almost as much trouble as he gave me, the elf thing becoming less of an issue all the time. Scorpius was just what happens when Draco and I are combined into a wild toddler.

            Scorpius cried and from Draco’s arms, flung himself in the direction of a set of my red Auror robes on the floor. He’d been holding them while harassing Auror Clark, but dropped them when Draco picked him up.

            “Me Roarer! Me Roarer!” Scorpius yelled, reaching for the robes.

            “Sure, you can be an Auror, just like Daddy. Here you go,” I said, picking the fallen robes up and handing them to my son.

            He stopped crying as he clutched the material.

            “Come on, let’s go downstairs to shrink those, before you get into anything else,” Draco said, exiting the room with Scorpius and my red robes.

            I followed after. “Are we still going to the park, to play in the snow? Or are we playing Aurors?” I asked.

            “Both. Get your winter Auror gear on and let’s go,” Draco answered.

            And that is what we did. I dressed in my warmest Auror clothes, Draco dressed in his snow gear, and Scorpius was dressed in his snowsuit, with my shrunken Auror robes over top. We played in the snow at the park, Draco throwing snowballs at me and pretending to be the bad guy, so Scorpius and I could throw snowballs back at him, pretending to take him down. The hug and gender identity were not mentioned again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but I’m still not feeling well and this is the last chapter before the big one where Harry and Draco resolve their issues, so I wanted to make sure it was right. Please Review!


	32. Chapter 32

            Draco and I were getting along, cohabitating. He let me eat breakfast with him and Scorpius and read Scorpius bedtime stories at night after I finished Auror training. He even consistently backed me up to Scorpius that I wasn’t an elf, but a Daddy.

            So when I came home one day after Draco had been expecting to see his father, to find Draco in a frantic mood, packing up the house, I was a bit surprised. I’d watched Scorpius that morning and nothing had been out of the ordinary then. Then I’d gone to Auror training, followed by dinner at the Burrow, as usual; I never had dinner with Draco and Scorpius, because they ate before I got off work.

            “Has your father been here?” I asked, jumping to Lucius’ visit as the only possible reason for Draco’s behavior.

            “Yes!” Draco exclaimed, angrily shoving some of his belonging into a box.

            “Calm down, Draco. It will be okay. Whatever Lucius said, doesn’t matter. All that matters, is you and me and Scorpius,” I said soothingly. “Now tell me what your father said.”

            “He flat out said,” Draco took a large breath, “that he wants me to marry _you_ , to take advantage of your name and power. He doesn’t care how much he hates you, as long as it’s to _his_ advantage, and I’m to suck it up and do as he commands!”

            “Oh…” I said, stepping forward and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to marry me, because he wants you to. If we get married, it should be for love. If you don’t love me, then you shouldn’t have to marry me.” Normally, I would’ve been upset that he didn’t want to marry me, but the fact that he was refusing his father’s order to do so, made the rejection not even matter. I didn’t want our relationship to be built on that type of foundation. And if Lucius thought we out to be married, maybe it was better to wait a while, even if it was just to spite him.

            “Yeah, well, tell my father that! I’m tired of his bullshite! I’m leaving!”

            “Is he kicking you out?” I asked.

            “No! I no longer wish to live under his _tainted_ roof or use his bloody elf!”

            “Okay, but where are we going to go? I have my godfather’s house in London,” I offered, proud of Draco for putting his foot down with Lucius.

            “Who said anything about _we_ , Potter? I’m going to my house on Spinner’s End. It’s small, but it’s mine and my father can’t touch me there,” Draco replied.

            “He can’t touch you at my house either and my place is the House of Black, your mother’s family home. It’s big. It needs a remodel, but so does Spinner’s End and at least the Black house is big enough for us,” I reasoned. I was all for Draco rebelling against Lucius, but I didn’t want our family separated again. We had to stay together.

            “No. I am an adult, not a child. I have a child of my own to raise. I will stand on my own two feet and raise him. That is the hand I was dealt and that is the hand I shall play,” he said firmly.

            “What about me? Can I move into Spinner’s End with you?” I asked.

            Draco sighed. “There’s really no room, unless you want to live in the tiny little attic.”

            “Deal,” I said, no questions asked.

            “Deal? You won’t even be able to stand up in there!”

            “As long as it’s in the same house as my son, then deal. I don’t want to be separated from him. I don’t want to be separated from you, either. I want to take care of the two of you.” I almost professed my undying love, again, but bit my tongue to stop myself from saying it. He didn’t want me and if he thought I was only after a relationship with him, he wouldn’t let me move into his attic, especially after his father had just ordered him to marry me.

            “Fine. Start packing. The sooner we are out of here, the better,” he said.

            I called Dobby and Kreacher to pack my things. Then I reminded Draco that Snape had left him a house elf named Wizzy. Draco called Wizzy and ordered the elf to help pack his and Scorpius’ things. With that handled, I went to check on Scorpius.

            I walked into the nursery to find that Scorpius had pulled the rocking chair over to the windowsill and used it to climb up. He had one knee on the windowsill, the other foot on the rocking chair, as he reached up towards the window latches, clearly trying to escape. He turned to look at me as he heard me, a guilty expression on his face.

            “Daddy!” Scorpius exclaimed, rushing to get down, probably aiming to butter me up with a hug.

            “Where do you think you’re going, young man?” I asked, picking my son up. He was taller and heavier now, having recently turned twenty months old.

            “Go, go, go?” Scorpius asked sheepishly.

            “Out to the garden?” I asked.

            Scorpius nodded, explaining, “Mums, there, see?” He pointed out his window at the clearly visible Dirigible Plums. Only the Dirigible Plum trees still had fruit on them this time a year, being a year-round fruit.

            “Yes, I see, but you are supposed to stay in your nursery, not escape to eat plums,” I answered.

            “One mum?” he wheedled.

            “Fine, one plum,” I caved. I opened the window and summoned the largest, juiciest looking of the fruit and handed it over to my son.

            Scorpius bit into it eagerly. He was finally showing signs of getting those first molars, but he didn’t have them yet, so it was a good thing it was a mushy overripe plum.

            “Father is going to move us to another house. How do you like that idea, Scorpius?” I asked.

            Scorpius ignored me, in favor of eating his plum. He probably had no idea what I meant.

            Scorpius and I had one last evening in the beach house and I decided to make the most of it. It was the dead of winter, but with warming spells, winter cloaks, and snowboots, I took Scorpius outside to play one last time. He climbed up the stairs and went down the slide all by himself, but he still needed me to push him on the swing. Scorpius had finally learned how to petal his tricycle and showed off, riding up and down the walk.

            We moved to Snape’s house first thing in the morning. The elves were not nearly as proficient at unpacking, because they didn’t know where things belonged. On top of that, the house was small and still filled with Snape’s stuff. Draco spent a lot of that first day ordering the elves to box up things Snape had left, like Snape’s robes and the room full of toys, and pile it all in the potions laboratory, because there was nowhere else to put it. Then the elves were able to bring out our posessions, but only the essentials. I did my best to organize the low-ceilinged attic with my belongings, but I sincerely wished Draco did not really want to live the rest of our lives here. Merlin, I made my bed out of blankets on the floor, so that I’d be able to sit up in it, without hitting my head.

            Scorpius cried most of that first day in the new house. The beach house was all he ever knew and the new surroundings at Spinner’s End were strange and foreign. Draco did his best to make the place homier and fill the second bedroom with all of Scorpius’ toys, but he was clearly exhausted from the move and the crying baby.

            When it was time for bed and Scorpius was still fussy, Draco surprised me. “Come sleep in the master bedroom, with us,” he requested as I was about to go up to the attic.

            “All right,” I said, unsure if he meant in the bed or on the floor.

            I followed Draco and Scorpius into the room and stood awkwardly in the doorway, while Draco first ordered the elves to move the bed from the middle of the room, to up against the wall. Then he put our son down on the bed and climbed in after him.

            Draco motioned towards the newly enlarge walkway and said, “Conjure a bed. And I’m _not_ doing this because my father told me too. I almost want to never see you again, because of what my father said. But, I realize that reaction too would be influenced by him, so I’m trying my best to treat you how I would, if my father had kept his opinions to himself.”

            “Thank you. All you can do for it, is to ignore him,” I said, glad we were trying to put Lucius Malfoy behind us.

            I transfigured a chair into a single-sized bed and summoned my blankets and pillows from upstairs. It was far more comfortable down here than I was expecting. There was even still a bit of space between our beds, so that we could walk to the bathroom. I didn’t know how long this situation would last, but spending the night in the same room as Draco and my son was more than worth moving into this decrepit old house. I even got to watch Draco breastfeed our son for the first time. I was making progress towards winning them back and becoming a real family, despite Lucius’ interference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done now; I just have one more chapter planned. Please review!


	33. Chapter 33

            Scorpius woke up in a slightly better mood, although he was still fussier than usual during breakfast. After breakfast, the doorbell rang.   It was only our second day there and we hadn’t gotten around to telling people we had moved, plus with the Fidelius on the Beach House, we weren’t used to getting visitors, so I was surprised.

            Wizzy opened the door, revealing that it was Narcissa Malfoy who’d dropped in for a visit. Draco motioned her to come in and offered her tea in a rather polite manner, considering what her husband had said to Draco.

            “Draco, I want you to know that I fought your father on this. I don’t care if you never marry; you are the rightful Malfoy heir,” Narcissa said, sitting down at the kitchen table with her tea.

            “Mother, I love you dearly, you know that. I want you to be happy. But sometimes you are so full of it, I cannot bear to look at you,” Draco replied.

            “No, Draco, I mean it. Your father will take you back and make you the rightful heir, because he has no other heir to choose from, and if he doesn’t, he’ll have no wife either,” Narcissa insisted.

            “You’d leave him, for me?” Draco asked.

            “Yes! Of course! You’re my son and I love you. Your father loves you too, even if he doesn’t act like it.”

            Draco and Narcissa hugged.

            “Listen, Draco. I threatened to divorce your father, after he refused to come over here and apologize. I told him flat out that until he realizes his mistake, you at least need to be given the beach house and Snotty flat out; not as an inheritance, but a gift for being a brilliant son, that cannot be taken back. I also insisted that your allowance be increased,” Narcissa said.

            “You did?” Draco asked, surprised.

            “Yes. Now I just need one favor from you, my Dragon.”

            “What is it?” Draco asked.

            “I need a place to stay until your father comes to his senses. I did threaten to divorce him,” Narcissa answered.

            Spinner’s End was already tight, but Draco agreed that his mother could stay the night. I offered her Grimmauld Place to live in, if she goes through with the divorce, but given the shape of the place, she didn’t want to go there tonight. And Draco wouldn’t hear of his mother living alone. So, all four of us crammed into Snape’s tiny two-bedroom house.

            I was slightly put out by Narcissa’s presence, because I was still mad she’d gone along with Lucius as long as she had. None of this was Draco’s fault and putting so much responsibility on him from the time he was fifteen was unfair. Sure, I hadn’t helped with Scorpius either, but I wasn’t there. She was.

            That night, I stood glaring in the doorway as Narcissa transfigured the sofa into a bed for the night and Wizzy produced bedding.

            Draco, with Scorpius trailing behind him, came up behind me with a glass and a pitcher of water for his mother. He put it on the end table, wished his mother goodnight, and then came up to me and said, “Come with me.”

            I did and he led me up the stairs, to the second-floor landing. Scorpius crawled up the stairs after us, but got distracted when he decided to stop and play with a loose rail.

            Draco leaned in close to me then and whispered in my ear, “I read your article, by the way.”

            “What?” I asked. It’d been months since the article had come out in the Quibbler and I’d almost forgotten about it.

            “The Quibbler. I read it. Do you still feel that way?” he asked, hand tentatively reaching out to goose along my arm.

            “Yes,” I answered breathily, so incredibly turned on. I hadn’t had sex since Scorpius was conceived. In fact, that was the only time I’d ever had sex. With a baby in the house, I hadn’t wanked in ages. And Draco was the hottest person I’d ever seen in my life. So despite the fact that Scorpius was playing only six feet away, I was hard.

            “I figured you did, after you agreed to move into the attic crawl space, just to stay with us. I want you to share the master bedroom with us. Permanently. In our bed,” he said.

            I looked him in the eyes and knew this wasn’t a game. His eyes were smoldering in a way I hadn’t seen them do since fourth year. He still wanted me. Maybe he even still loved me. And this definitely had nothing to do with his father telling him to be with me.

            I nodded and let him lead me to the master bedroom. Scorpius, not wanting to be left behind, rushed up the remaining stairs, and passed us at a run, in order to crawl into the large bed first. Draco followed and ordered Wizzy to change the bed I’d slept in last night back into a chair and put the blankets away.

            Then Draco beckoned me onto his bed. I followed.

            “No sex. Maybe just some cuddling. My mother is downstairs and our baby son is in the bed with us,” he said, pulling me into his long arms. “And Scorpius needs some milk, before he’ll go to sleep.” Then he took off his shirt, baring his breasts. They were perfect; teardrop shaped and heavy with milk, despite their small size.

            “Why the sudden change of heart?” I asked, nuzzling into his side happily, as Scorpius sat in Draco’s lap and began to suckle. My son clearly knew the routine. Breasts were for sucking. I wished I could be Scorpius and that those breasts were for me. I wouldn’t mind tasting Draco’s milk, but what I really wanted was to fondle that soft flesh and to pinch those dark nipples between my fingers.

            “It’s not sudden. It’s been a long time coming, don’t you think? Four months. That’s almost as long as we were together the first time,” Draco said.

            “But you said you didn’t love me anymore,” I protested, coming out of my lust induced thoughts. I didn’t want to question him, because I wanted this to be true and him to love me again, but I had to be sure.

            He sighed. “I don’t know if that was true. I was certainly ready to move on when you showed up on my doorstep. When you told me what happened, I didn’t believe you. Part of me still didn’t believe you’d stick around even after that article in the Quibbler. But you stayed. Even with all the crap my father and mother have played, you stayed. I don’t know what’s wrong with you—putting up with my family like this—but I’m glad you stayed. I’m ready to take you back. Let’s just go slowly this time.”

            “Slow as can be, no marriage in sight, to spite your father,” I agreed.

            I kissed him then. It was hot and passionate. And it was quickly interrupted by Scorpius, who let go of Draco’s nipple in order to pop his head up to our level.

            Then, I requested in between pants of breath, “Promise me one thing?”

            “What’s that?” he asked, panting as well. He held the other breast out to Scorpius and said, “Here, Scorp, have some more milk.”

            Scorpius complied and sat back down in Draco’s lap to nurse from the other nipple.

            “We do the opposite of whatever your father wants,” I answered.

            “Even if he wants me back as his heir, I won’t go back. I’m done being his puppet. He can track down a very distant squib relation we have. I’d like to see the Manor pass to a squib. It would serve the bastard right,” Draco said.

            I kissed him again. “I love you. So much.”

            “I love you too. Don’t leave me again, or I’ll kill you myself,” he threatened.

            “I wouldn’t, not ever,” I vowed and kissed him again.

            Again Scorpius let go of what looked like a very enticing nipple, to get in the middle of us. “Me ki ki too!” Scorpius exclaimed, clearly feeling left out.

            “Yes, of course. Daddy and I both love you very much,” Draco said and leaned down to plant a kiss on one of his cheeks.

            I did the same to Scorpius’ other cheeks. “Yes, I’ll love you forever, my Scorpius. Daddy is never going to leave you again,” I promised.

            Draco lay down and said, “Now lay down and go to sleep.” He pressed a hand gently on Scorpius’ chest to encourage him to do just that. The moment Scorpius was down, he went back to suckling at Draco’s breast.

            I lay down too, Scorpius at chest level, and asked, “Does he always sleep with you?”

            I knew from my time living at the Beach House that Scorpius’ crib was used for naps, not bedtime. Bedtime stories were read in the nursery and then Draco and Scorpius would disappear into Draco’s room to sleep, probably because that was where they nursed before bed. Normally Draco was up nursing Scorpius before I got up too, but even on the mornings when I was up first, there was never a baby sleeping in the crib.

            “Yes. Do you have a problem with that? Do you want the conjured bed back?” Draco asked softly, sounding insecure about his earlier decision to let me into his bed.

            “No. No problem and I don’t want that bed back. This is where I want to be,” I whispered, stroking Scorpius’ pajama covered arm. He may be in the way, preventing me from worshipping the world’s most perfect tits and snogging Draco senseless, but he was part of the family package that I wanted. Besides, if it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn’t be getting a look at those tits in the first place.

            And that was it: we were back together again. We lay with Scorpius between us and kissed chastely for over an hour, while our baby fell asleep at Draco’s breast, cradled between us. Draco freed his nipple from the little mouth and wiped some stray milk away. Then exhausted, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That wraps up the majority of the story. I haven’t decided what to do for the epilogue. What plot points do I still need to wrap up?


End file.
